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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27093913">Abyssal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BryonNightshade/pseuds/BryonNightshade'>BryonNightshade</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rockman X | Mega Man X, Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Dark, Dystopia, Gen, Maverick X, Robot slavery, X series reformulation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 03:34:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>208,156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27093913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BryonNightshade/pseuds/BryonNightshade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>X's long hibernation had two objectives: first, to ensure that X had an ethical grounding before he woke up; second, to delay X's awakening until some future time when the world might better appreciate intelligent robots. The first objective was met. The second was not... oh, was it ever not.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>X &amp; Zero (Rockman)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prelude: The Edge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>An unspoken assumption of the X-series canon is that the government is somewhere between benign and conservative. We know it's not so enlightened that reploids have full rights (or reploids' cries of abuse would be implausible); but we also know it can't be too bad or virtuous souls like X wouldn't fight for it.</p>
<p>The premise of this story is simple: adjust the variable of government and explore what happens.</p>
<p>There is ugliness in this story. If you dare, come along with me, and let's see where this path leads…</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>August 12, 2147</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Coming in, coming in!"</p>
<p>X's hands tightened. This moment was always the worst—the last moment of waiting. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff. X knew he was about to fall, but he didn't know how far, or what the bottom was going to be like.</p>
<p>His face, built to look youthful and now concealing the truth of his longevity, was creased with worry. His light blue carapace shone in the bright lights of the medical bay. His unruly black hair was uncovered by a helmet that sat, almost forgotten, atop his recharge tube in another part of the small facility. His eyes seemed to want to water, but weren't by an effort of X's will.</p>
<p>X was an android, and he could control such things. But, also because he was an android, he <em>felt</em> the emotions that told his signifying system to make his eyes water. That made control hard.</p>
<p>This was always the worst. The anticipation was terrible.</p>
<p>He knew that reploids were coming in, knew that they needed him. He didn't know, yet, how badly they were hurt. Until they arrived, he was helpless. He could do nothing but stew in dread. His too-potent imagination dreamed up a series of awful scenarios, each worse than the last.</p>
<p>Please, just let them arrive—anything was better than the waiting!</p>
<p>And then the door banged open. Instantly X's eyes were diagnosing what he saw. Four reploids entered, one hobbling on his own power, another being carried between the remaining two. The foreboding vanished. Now he could act. Now he <em>must</em> act.</p>
<p>"Turn," he said to the one that was walking. "On the table," he said to the others without taking his eyes off the first. The first did a shuffling in-place rotation. X's keen eyes picked out the details of his injuries, categorizing them and dissecting their implications. "You'll live," he pronounced before pointing to the side of the room. "Wait your turn."</p>
<p>He turned to the other injured reploid and was greeted with a stench of scorched metal. Plasma burns had scored the color from his chest. His armor plating was deformed by the high temperatures, making it difficult to read just how bad the wound was. The threat was obvious, though. Reploids' power distribution and storage systems were concentrated in their chests. Too much damage there was just as fatal as the destruction of the processors in their heads.</p>
<p>"You'll need to turn off your pain perception, if you haven't already," X said as he reached for some tools.</p>
<p>"I… don't remember how!" the injured reploid stammered.</p>
<p>That's bad, X thought. Either trauma was affecting all of his mental processes, or mental deterioration had already started. That was a dangerous sign. It took far less power to run a reploid's brain than his limbs. A power distribution system that could power a reploid's body could also fry his brain to a crisp. Surge protection was a standard design element, but heat damage tended to break that down…</p>
<p>"I'll talk you through it," X said coolly. His hands didn't hesitate. Already he was moving to detach the reploid's chest armor and peel it away. He needed to see what he was getting in to. His mouth worked independently of his mind.</p>
<p>The chestplate refused to come off. It was fused to the reploid's thin metal skin. That was very bad. That meant plasma burn-through. The skin was just there for structural reasons; it wasn't much of a barrier on its own, and it had been heated enough to melt into the armor plate. How much energy had gotten through the armor, discharged into and through the skin?</p>
<p>X looked at a few places on the reploid's body for distinctive design elements. What he saw told him the model number, and with that information he could pull up his schematics. That would tell him how to get the reploid's chest open.</p>
<p>"Are you in pain now?" X asked.</p>
<p>"Nnnnnn-o," the reploid replied. "I'mmmmm alllllllright."</p>
<p>Vocal hang-ups. Not good. Clear evidence of deterioration. There was no question, now: power distribution was damaged. How badly, though? And could X find the problem in time?</p>
<p>There was one thing X could do if all else failed: emergency power-down. It was a big risk to take. Reploids almost never powered all the way down. Even when they "slept", power still flowed to run background functions. It wasn't healthy for their minds to turn all the way off. It was even less healthy to power down quickly, without giving the mind time to put itself in order.</p>
<p>Nor was such a drastic step guaranteed to work. The reploid's core would still be packing a lot of undischarged power. If the system was damaged, it might send fatal amperages into the reploid's CPU, even if the CPU wasn't asking for it.</p>
<p>X's mouth kept spewing soothing words. He wanted to grit his teeth, but keeping the reploid calm was more important. He detached two connectors, but the third was charred into a single unmoving mass. He'd have to cut. There wasn't time to be elegant about it.</p>
<p>"Grab the plate," he said, pointing to a slab of metal and polarized glass. One of the unhurt reploids complied. "Put it here, like this… lower… there." X hefted a small plasma cutter, slid it under the glass portion of the plate. It was hard to see in the murky darkness, but this way the cutter wouldn't blind him when it did its business.</p>
<p>"Hold still," he said.</p>
<p>"Ssssssure, boss."</p>
<p>X bent into his task, cutting through armor and skin with a deft and careful touch. Any imprecision and he'd do more harm than good. He made no such mistakes.</p>
<p>In the corner of his eye he could see the reploid's hand begin to clench and unclench rapidly. <em>No</em>, he thought. <em>Say it hasn't gotten that far</em>.</p>
<p>"Can you hold your hand still?" X hollered over the sound of his cutter.</p>
<p>"Nnnnno," the reploid said. "Issss that bad?"</p>
<p>Potentially catastrophic. It was possible that power distribution was mistakenly sending power to different groups of pseudo-muscles on its own, producing the equivalent of a shaking palsy. It was also possible that the damage to the reploid's mind had gotten to motor control. X felt a bead of sweat—artfully designed to show his emotions without getting near his eyes—falling down the side of his face.</p>
<p>"That's it," he said as he pulled the cutter free. "Plate off." His impromptu assistants pulled the plate away. X set the cutter aside and, with careful fingers, began to pull at the reploid's chest. It was heavy, but X had more strength in his slender frame than others ever expected. A square section of the reploid's chest, ragged and tapered on one side where X had had to cut around the normal connectors, came free.</p>
<p>X looked down into the open chest of his patient. The sight that greeted him was not an orderly layout of circuit cards and capacitors and cables and electrical components. It more closely resembled modern art.</p>
<p>Plastic had been warped by heat. Insulation had flash-burned, exposing the wires it was meant to protect. Some components had been melted together. Everywhere was a fine black soot of scorched metal.</p>
<p>X didn't even know where to start. For a moment he just stared, unable to act, unable to begin. Too much damage. How was this reploid not already dead?</p>
<p>But he was dead, wasn't he?</p>
<p>There was only recourse. "I need you to shut down to stage zero," he said, working hard to keep alarm out of his voice. "Do you understand?"</p>
<p>"Nnnnnno," the reploid answered. "You cannnnn fixxxxx me, right?"</p>
<p>"Yes, but I need you to shut all the way down first," X said, with a bit more urgency this time. "Authorization code X-245-Z-317. Please hurry!"</p>
<p>X watched, unable to force the reploid to do it, hoping that he realized that time was everything. A graceless shutdown wasn't desirable here, but there wasn't much X could do. The only prayer was to shut down, and then physically disconnect the reploid's head—save him from himself, from the rampant wrath of his own heart. The odds weren't great, and whether or not he'd ever be the same again afterwards was an open question.</p>
<p>It was such a risky procedure that reploids weren't normally allowed to drop to stage zero awareness. The Third Law of Robotics, which requires robots to preserve their own existence, was extended to prevent reploids from trying it. There weren't many people that had the codes to authorize it. X did.</p>
<p>"Ooookay," the reploid said at last—and almost instantly his head snapped back, his eyes slammed shut, and his mouth hung slightly open.</p>
<p>X flipped into his hands the tools he'd slowly been drawing. No time, no time, had to get the disconnects quickly, had to disconnect the…</p>
<p>And before he was more than twenty seconds into the three-minute procedure, there was a loud electrical snap. X's hands froze in place. For a moment there was no sound in the room. X suddenly became aware of the other three reploids in the room. Each of them was looking in his direction, or at their fallen comrade.</p>
<p>Black, acrid smoke wafted out of the reploid's open mouth. It smelled of death.</p>
<p>Slowly, X withdrew his tools. He set them, very carefully, on the table where they belonged. Every motion was deliberate, done because it had to be done eventually, no point rushing and messing it up.</p>
<p>He already hadn't been fast enough.</p>
<p>He looked down at the reploid's face. He vaguely remembered this model, this production line. It shamed him to think of this reploid—this child—in such terms, as part of a run. This reploid had been built less than a year ago. What a pitifully brief time. Too short, far too short.</p>
<p>X stepped back. "He's…" he started, but the words caught in his throat. He swallowed—a human affectation, but one he was fond of—and tried again. "You should… alert the parts shop. Tell them they're… they need to be ready. To conduct a… rendering."</p>
<p>He couldn't bear to see the effect his words had on the other reploids. He was in his personal world of grief.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Time slipped by swiftly. Repairing the other reploid took no more than a quarter of X's attention. Eventually X found himself free enough to leave the medical bay and go find Sigma.</p>
<p>Sigma's visage was both humanoid and distinctly inhuman. For eyes, he had solid, pupil-less balls of blue. Silvery pegs took the place of ears. There wasn't even a hint of hair on his head. His body was very broad and solid. Even when he was sitting, he loomed. He seemed to take up all the space in every room he was in.</p>
<p>Anyone skilled in robotics could see the care that had been lavished on Sigma's construction, from delicately-articulated abdominals to a chin that seemed large enough to declare independence. Sigma was important and he knew it. An air of destiny surrounded him at all times, and he wore it like a cloak.</p>
<p>He was hunched over a table, looking at maps, tactical readouts, and after-action reports. Even so, he noticed when X came to the doorway. "Come in," he said.</p>
<p>X did so. "Waddle will be fine," he said. "Nothing serious."</p>
<p>Sigma nodded without looking up. "And Reilly?"</p>
<p>X closed his eyes.</p>
<p>Sigma sighed. "I see." He straightened his back, looked to the ceiling for a moment, and refocused on X. "It wasn't your fault," he said. "I was shocked he lived long enough to get back to base. I thought he'd been killed instantly, to be honest. I had to change tactics to get him out. It slowed us down. Maybe... I shouldn't have allowed myself to think he'd survive."</p>
<p>"Don't talk like that," X said. "We'll always try to keep them alive. Their lives mean so much to… to both of us. That's why we're doing this, right?"</p>
<p>"Right," said Sigma. "Forward, ever forward. The past is…" he shook his head. There were places there he didn't want to go. "And at least… after he's rendered, his parts will help you save others."</p>
<p>X had tried to comfort himself with that thought in the past. It never worked. It was hard to see rendering as anything other than an indictment. "Did we at least succeed?" he asked. "How did the mission go?"</p>
<p>"Miserably." X could see frustration on Sigma's face. Sigma, X knew, approached every problem, every mission, as if there were a single glorious right answer. Failing to get to that right answer always tasted like failure to him. He hated that. He felt like he should be able to do more—like he should be able to achieve that perfection.</p>
<p>"They saw us coming earlier than we'd hoped," Sigma continued. "So we had to fight our way in. We were only able to get two reploids out before we withdrew."</p>
<p>A part of X noted that getting two out made up for the loss of Reilly. He hated that part of him. "That much resistance, huh?"</p>
<p>"Partly. And also… they only left two that we could reach. There were others there, but… the Hunters killed them first."</p>
<p>X felt a chill. "Pre-emptive killing of reploids? To prevent them from falling into Maverick hands?"</p>
<p>"Yes." Sigma's impressively square jaw shifted as he ground his teeth together. "It's a nasty strategy. It'll work, over time. It makes us the bad guys for even trying to liberate our kin. It'll make other reploids fear us almost as much as the Hunters."</p>
<p>"A really sound approach, if you have total contempt for life," X muttered.</p>
<p>"That's why we're fighting them, X," Sigma reminded him. "That's the enemy."</p>
<p>"Even with the Hunters, I have a hard time thinking of them as "the enemy"," X replied.</p>
<p>Sigma gave him a wry smile at that. "You were made for more innocent times, X. Not the times we live in, that's for sure."</p>
<p>X sighed. "I wish… I could do more," he said.</p>
<p><em>You could,</em> whispered a part of X. <em>Your hands hide the secret. It's all there, in those glorious schematics that were left behind with you. You feel injustice keenly, don't you? You feel the burning in your heart. You know how you could release that. You could do it.</em></p>
<p>As always, he shut the voice out and ignored the strange, scratchy feeling inside his chest. His desire was to preserve life, promote it, help it grow. Acting on that consumed all his time and energy and will.</p>
<p>It wasn't nearly enough.</p>
<p>"You're doing plenty as you are," Sigma said. "The Mavericks are indebted to you, X. No one else has anything like your expertise in robotics. You're irreplaceable. You keep us alive, and that's a lot. Plus," he smiled, "just having you here, having you on our side, is a big boost to our morale."</p>
<p>X returned a weak smile. "Well, I guess that's worth something."</p>
<p>"It is. More than you know."</p>
<p>"Between you and me," X said, leaning in, "you don't have to give me the Commander routine."</p>
<p>"It's not the…" Sigma began stiffly, but he trailed off. "Sorry. I was using that tone and that diction, huh?"</p>
<p>"You were lapsing into it. There's nothing wrong with it, but I thought we were more familiar with that. It's so… formal."</p>
<p>"I'm the commander of the Mavericks at all times," Sigma replied. "I don't get to shed that, ever, any more than you get to shed being the Maverick Medic."</p>
<p>"I thought you enjoyed being Commander," X said.</p>
<p>Sigma smiled. "Are you telling me you don't enjoy being the Maverick Medic? Is that why you never agree to do our propaganda videos?"</p>
<p>X decided to change the subject; he hated talking about himself, and the videos were a sore subject for him. "I guess the reploids we rescued are okay? If they were hurt you would have brought them to me."</p>
<p>Sigma looked uncomfortable. "Actually… I wanted to talk to you about that. There are no physical injuries, to be sure. But…"</p>
<p>"But?"</p>
<p>"One of them… one of the reploids we rescued… she…"</p>
<p>Sigma seemed to have trouble articulating it, but he'd said the dread word. <em>She.</em> Fear swept through X. "She?"</p>
<p>"Yes. She was built as a…"</p>
<p>"…I understand." X's words caused Sigma physical relief. X could see the tall commander relax at not having to say the words. "I'll talk to her."</p>
<p>"I appreciate it," Sigma said. "She needs you right now. You know how to do these things best."</p>
<p>"I'll see to it."</p>
<hr/>
<p>When X was out, Sigma turned his attention back to the reports and maps. So much to analyze, so much to process, and he had to be done in time to make their next message; the window would only be open for three minutes. Those Unitech guys were morons who couldn't keep their systems tight-they were too expansive and open-ended to secure completely- but they could react to an intrusion effectively…</p>
<p>"When are you going to take him into battle?"</p>
<p>Sigma didn't have to glance up. He knew that voice. "Never, Vile. Not until he volunteers."</p>
<p>Vile snorted. "And you wonder why I don't respect him."</p>
<p>"We're all volunteers, Vile," Sigma reminded his subordinate.</p>
<p>"Sure, boss. But some of us put our busters where our mouths are."</p>
<p>Sigma didn't respond to that. Eventually Vile got the message and wandered away. He was no strategist (his thoughts about battle were usually limited to "There's something—kill it!") so he wasn't the sort who could help Sigma with his labors. Nor was he the sort to understand why X could not be dragged to battle, or why it might be better if he never went.</p>
<p>When Sigma was sure the warbot was gone, he stood up straight, letting his eyes slip out of focus. "I know I promised to build this world for you, X. But if I could, X… if I could…"</p>
<p>He looked down at the data before him and despaired.</p>
<p>Even if he was perfect, he couldn't be everywhere at once.</p>
<p>And that meant they were losing.</p>
<hr/>
<p>An intelligent mind has a number of defenses against trauma. They range from catatonia to forced forgetfulness, from regression to externalization. Those fancy names describe the ways the brain runs from pain until it can find a way to live with itself.</p>
<p>Many of those defenses were not available to reploids. They were cursed with memories too powerful to forget. Their lives were too short to let them develop other coping mechanisms. Reploids were thrust into "adult" society without being given any chance to develop. Their minds were powerful and creative, but lacking in experience, socialization, or maturity.</p>
<p>Many reploids found themselves in traumatic situations without any idea of how to handle them. Since those reploids were some of the ones the Mavericks were most keen on liberating, that meant the Mavericks ended up with a lot of reeling reploids in their care.</p>
<p>X wasn't just the Mavericks' medic. He frequently doubled as their counsellor.</p>
<p>She was in a small room with a few other similarly-damaged reploids. Damage, X noted, was a word with a lot of uses. He could repair dents and dings, burns and bashes. Repairing the psyche was a different task altogether… one almost totally out of his power.</p>
<p>He'd wanted a larger room than this, but the Mavericks' base was too small to be able to spare much. Art supplies were in the room—Sigma hadn't believed X's request for them when he saw it, but he'd bent to the elder android's wishes. Under the supervision of a Maverick chaperone, the traumatized reploids were encouraged to express themselves with paint and crayon and paper.</p>
<p>She didn't. She sat in the corner, arms around her legs, face staring blankly into nothingness. She still wore human clothing, a black dress that came down to mid-thigh. It clung to her thin frame, a relic of her recent past. Her robot-hair was blonde; disorderly strands of it had escaped from the ponytail running down her back. Dark bags were under her eyes—X was impressed, for a moment, at how expressive her face was. In many respects, she didn't look like a reploid at all. Her whole body was sheathed in like-flesh. No metal components were exposed, save for a small patch behind her left ear and, if X recognized the model, on the bottom of her right foot.</p>
<p>Her feet were the giveaway. Reploids, as a rule, had large and heavy feet. It was a way to compensate for being top-heavy with so-so balance systems. Even models like this, with their very specific design criteria, had larger feet than a human of the same size. Of course, the clientele of these models preferred they wear high-heeled shoes, which went against the whole point of having large feet. They were almost unbearably clumsy.</p>
<p>Then again, they usually weren't told to walk very much. Or very far.</p>
<p>X approached her slowly. He didn't stare at her; he was sure, as he moved, to greet the other occupants by name. He knew them, had talked to them. Most were functional to some degree, and could have a life outside of this room. One or two were beyond repair. All of them deserved his sympathy. He gave it freely.</p>
<p>He noticed when she came out of her fog to focus on him. He returned her gaze. Soft, slow. But steady. She was a frightened animal; anything overt or unpredictable would make her bolt. He approached and knelt down to put himself on her level. He didn't dare extend a hand in her direction. No good would come of it.</p>
<p>"Hello," he said gently. "I'm X."</p>
<p>Recognition glinted in her eyes. "X?" she said. "The X?"</p>
<p>"Yes," he confirmed.</p>
<p>Her eyes darted around the room. What she was looking for, he couldn't tell. "Am I… is it safe?" she said. "There are no humans here, are there?"</p>
<p>"Just one," X said. "And he can't hurt anyone."</p>
<p>Her eyes widened at his words. She trembled.</p>
<p>"No one can hurt you, now," he said soothingly. "It's safe. You're safe here. No one will touch you if you don't want them to. No one will hurt you."</p>
<p>She sniffed. "Promise?" she said. She was heart-breakingly vulnerable. A child. She couldn't have been online more than six months on the outside. She deserved better than what she'd got. She deserved soft hands, kind words, bright rooms, benign intentions.</p>
<p>X could give her some of that—but too late, far, far too late.</p>
<p>"I promise," X said. "This is a safe place, a good place."</p>
<p>She made a swallowing motion, and nodded to show she understood. She shook like a leaf in the wind.</p>
<p>"What's your name?" he asked.</p>
<p>The question seemed to startle her. He saw her lick her lips, as if to buy time. "Alia," she answered after several seconds.</p>
<p>"That's a pretty name," he said. "Well, Alia, you're safe here."</p>
<p>And then, to his surprise—he saw her moving but didn't know how to react—she flung herself upon him, sobbing openly. He comforted her with shush sounds, wrapped gentle arms around her. Light caresses, slow rocking. Comfort, as best he knew how to give her, when no amount of comfort could really reach her where it mattered.</p>
<p>Because he knew.</p>
<p>He'd suspected before. But when she pulled her frail, fragile frame against his body, he <em>knew.</em> He knew the moment that the lumps on her chest distended from being squeezed between their chests.</p>
<p>Robots didn't need imitation breasts. Yet she had them anyway. X <em>knew</em> what that meant.</p>
<p>His grip on her tightened slightly, as if there were some way to shield her from her past. Her sobbing continued unabated—if anything, the tenderness he showed her made it worse. It just gave her more contrast, let her see more clearly the depravities she'd suffered.</p>
<p>He cradled the child, and his own eyes drifted shut as he tried to bring her some measure of peace. It wouldn't work, he knew. He could hear the hollowness of his own voice.</p>
<p>That was because, in a way, everything that had happened to her was his fault.</p>
<p>Because he had failed.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: Soiled Conception</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sullied Conception</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>April 15, 2144</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>"These aren't the fossils you were looking for."</p>
<p>Dr. Cain sighed. Some jokes were inevitable, he supposed. "No, they're not."</p>
<p>"You go out trying to find some Mesozoic plant life, and instead you find… what is it, exactly?"</p>
<p>"A Lightbot."</p>
<p>"…a Lightbot?"</p>
<p>"I sent you the readouts, dean," Dr. Cain said. "I know you're no expert in robotics…"</p>
<p>"You aren't, either," the dean said with a little bite. "You just dabble in it."</p>
<p>There was no profit in arguing the point. Dr. Cain bit his tongue before he got diverted. "The point is… those schematics? They contain things I've never seen before. Exotic materials. Arrangements of parts that just shouldn't be possible. Entire subsystems I can't even begin to grasp."</p>
<p>"Didn't we just say you're no expert in robotics? You don't know the high-end stuff. And that means you can't tell me that this thing is special."</p>
<p>I can, Dr. Cain thought, if you'd let me. "You don't get it, dean. This Lightbot shouldn't be able to exist. These schematics tell the story of something impossible."</p>
<p>Dr. Cain could almost hear the dean thinking over the phone line. "Explain," the dean said slowly.</p>
<p>"The EMI alone is more than we know how to cope with," Dr. Cain said.</p>
<p>"EMI?"</p>
<p>"Electro-magnetic interference?" Oh… Dr. Cain remembered now. The dean really knew almost nothing about robotics. He wasn't unusual there. Dr. Cain was the oddball. His efforts to use robotics to help his other disciplines made him the black sheep of Nod University's paleontology department.</p>
<p>For that matter, most people knew nothing of robots, and were proud of the fact. Dr. Cain didn't think that was fitting for a supposedly learned man like the dean, but what could you do? "EMI," he explained, "is when one piece of equipment disrupts the other electronics around it. High-powered sensors and radios are notorious for it, but power lines with lots of current do it, too."</p>
<p>"And?"</p>
<p>"By what we know—and I've sent the numbers back to some friends to be sure—the EMI from some of the systems in this Lightbot should play havoc with the rest of him. But… he was designed to use them, and there are no warnings or blocks we can tell that would keep him from using them."</p>
<p>"And?!"</p>
<p>"Don't you get it?" Dr. Cain said, losing his self-control at last. "He's supposed to work in ways that we can't duplicate. That makes him better than anything we've got these days! This Lightbot, old as he is, is much more advanced than any other robot in existence!"</p>
<p>"So what?" the dean replied. "You're out there to try and recover Mesozoic plant life so we can learn how to help modern plants thrive in a world of high temperatures. We're talking something that could immediately, directly help mankind. When you talk robots, now we're in a net benefits problem. Is it really worth it having better robots? After all the strife we went through all those years ago?"</p>
<p>Time to play the trump card. Dr. Cain steeled himself, then said, "Jerusalem."</p>
<p>"…what?"</p>
<p>"Jerusalem," Dr. Cain repeated. "And Mecca and Medina. And Tel Aviv, for that matter."</p>
<p>"What about them?" said the dean, voice shaky. Dr. Cain allowed himself to grin. He knew the dean's weakness, no matter how he tried to hide it. The dean was in charge of too many departments—archaeology, paleontology, anthropology, some of the other humanities. Anything that involved digging in dirt somehow fell under his purview, even though his interests were much narrower. He never got to focus enough on his true passion.</p>
<p>"We haven't been able to do digs at those ruins," Dr. Cain said. "Hiroshima and Nagasaki cooled off soon enough, but the bombs that hit those two were pee-wees compared to what leveled Tel Aviv. And that says nothing of what happened to Mecca. The Muslims of the world had to redo some of their theology, once no one could complete the Hajj and survive. I know you've always wanted to have some excavations there, try to find what we can, salvage what we can. But we never could."</p>
<p>"No," the dean agreed. "The stay times are too short. You'd absorb a dangerous dose before you could really get started doing anything."</p>
<p>"And a remote control robot does us no good, either," Dr. Cain went on. "Too much interference cluttering the comms channels. But what if you had a robot that could think for itself? A robot that you could teach about your methods, about what to look for—that would then do it, on its own, as intelligently as anyone in your department?"</p>
<p>The pause was long this time. "What are you saying?" the dean said, slowly, carefully, as if he was having trouble fitting the facts into his head. "You're saying this is a smart robot? Like… like the robot masters of yesteryear?"</p>
<p>"No. I'm saying this isn't a robot at all. It's an android."</p>
<p>The silence that followed was so deep and long Dr. Cain began to wonder if he'd lost signal.</p>
<p>"Stay there," the dean said at last. "I'll come to you. We'll talk."</p>
<p>"Of course." Dr. Cain heard the dean disconnect. "Sorry about that," he said as he hung up.</p>
<p>The intelligent green eyes of the android blinked. "You didn't tell him you already woke me up," X said.</p>
<p>"Well… we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Dr. Cain said. "I think that once he sees you, a lot of things will make more sense to him. I believe more in asking forgiveness than permission, anyway."</p>
<p>X nodded. "I figured. I know you saw the warning."</p>
<p>"I saw."</p>
<p>X looked down at his hands. The words his "father" left behind with him replayed in his mind. "I certainly don't feel unstoppable," he said.</p>
<p>Dr. Cain grunted. "You're growing into your body," he said. "You know what you should be able to do, but you've never done it. Every sensation is new. We've seen it in humans, before—immobilize a limb for long enough, and when he gets it back, the human's clumsy using it. He gets back in practice quickly, though. You will, too."</p>
<p>"If you say so." X gave an intense look at his hand. Faster than the eye could follow, the hand disappeared inside the oversized forearm. What remained was a round opening. Dr. Cain couldn't see into it.</p>
<p>"What's that?" he asked shakily.</p>
<p>A surprised and scared look came over X's face. "Nothing," he said, hurriedly. His hand returned. "It's just… nothing. A different capability."</p>
<p>Dr. Cain suppressed his curiosity. He didn't want to push his guest too far. "I'll admit, I'd like to see all your different capabilities," he said. "Like I told the dean, you're… amazing."</p>
<p>"I think the human body's amazing," X replied modestly. "It's an intricate machine that's always under attack, always wearing down, and yet you're barely aware of how much work it is for you to live. It's all handled below the conscious level. And you're hosts to so many other organisms," he added, "that you're more of a collective lifeform. It's very impressive, considering it was built with unskilled labor."</p>
<p>Dr. Cain laughed. "I've never heard it described that way," he said.</p>
<p>"It's an admirable way to get things done," X went on. "All the different organisms are acting selfishly, but when they're balanced, the results are good for everyone." He ran a hand through his hair. "I feel… like that's how society should be like. Is that strange? I don't know what your society is like, but I have a very clear idea of what it should be."</p>
<p>"That is strange," Dr. Cain said, "but to be expected. The message said you were tested on ethics and the like. In fact…" Dr. Cain tapped his chin thoughtfully. "It's possible you were tested on triple the expected number of situations. It depends on whether your capsule could generate original ones or if it was just running a script. Dr. Light's been dead for more than a century. He couldn't have buried you after he was dead, so… the thirty-year mark he intended for you came and went, maybe seventy years ago."</p>
<p>X shrugged. "I feel out-of-time either way. I don't know what the world was like a hundred years ago, seventy years ago, or now. I guess it doesn't matter much."</p>
<p>It did matter, and Dr. Cain knew it. X might be the same no matter what era he woke up in, but the world wasn't. It was a different world X was emerging into, now—a world Dr. Light would have barely recognized.</p>
<p>He hoped the old man forgave him for this.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"FORE!" Whaap.</p>
<p>"Jesus, that's a nasty slice."</p>
<p>"You don't have to call me 'Jesus' when it's just us, Luke."</p>
<p>"Har, har, har. Do you wanna just take your mulligan now, Sean, or do you wanna hunt the ball down and swear at it first?"</p>
<p>The one called Sean let his club slide through his grip until the head rested on his thumb. He gazed hopelessly down the course. There wasn't any prayer that his ball had ended up in the friendly, emerald-green grass of the course. A real shame—that swing had been unusually strong. "I'll keep it," he said.</p>
<p>"You're shitting me."</p>
<p>"A re-do would probably be just as bad, and this one's already down-range," Sean said.</p>
<p>Luke shook his head. "That won't help you lose any faster, you know."</p>
<p>"Shut up and swing."</p>
<p>Luke smiled and set the scorecard aside. The club he hefted from the bag was obviously expensive. Its carbon fiber structure, the result of patient refinement and lots of investment in golf technology, was almost comically thin, but still rigid enough to withstand both the play of golf and the fury of the angry golfer. It betrayed no hint of wear or use.</p>
<p>Sean slammed his club home in his bag before picking up the scorecard. In front of him, Luke had begun the elaborate ritual that preceded every one of his tee shots, a ritual that included visualization, practice swings, shoulder rolls, two finger licks, three slow-motion approaches, one glove adjustment, and two butt wiggles. Sean wanted to restart their conversation, but experience told him that just made Luke stop and start over, and Sean didn't think he could bear that.</p>
<p>Both men were in their fifties, but they were dissimilar in most other respects. Sean was neither skinny nor fat, with no discernible muscle tone; he was the sort of man who views his body as the unworthy chariot of his mind. He was letting his dark hair turn gray and recede without putting up a fight. His blue eyes were chilly and deep-set, like an eel staring out of its cave.</p>
<p>Luke, in contrast, was a larger man in all dimensions. He had the look of an athlete who kept eating like one even after he stopped working out like one. Unlike his pale counterpart, his skin was tanned and his hair a sun-bleached sandy brown. He laughed easily, and was quick to shake hands or jostle or pat shoulders. Somehow, that physicality helped him seem more intimate than intimidating. People found themselves trusting him readily.</p>
<p>His eyes, though—they were brown, alert, and quick to notice any detail. While Sean's eyes made him seem distant even when he stood next to people, Luke's eyes probed. If eyes could be sued for sexual harassment, Luke would never be able to escape the courtroom.</p>
<p>Luke's eyes were occupied at the moment, so Sean looked down at the scorecard. No way. No <em>way</em>. His eyes flicked up at Luke. Luke wasn't more than halfway through his ritual. Gripping the pencil, Sean looked over the scorecard.</p>
<p>Ha! Luke might be the better golfer, but his poor handwriting would be his undoing. Sean very carefully began to force-morph '2's into '3's.</p>
<p>Whaap.</p>
<p>Sean's head jerked up in time to see the ball arc far, far into the distance, directly down into a sand trap. "Sucker," he said triumphantly.</p>
<p>"Still a better shot than yours," Luke said. "Let's go get 'em."</p>
<p>Sean set the scorecard aside. "Luke, why are we doing this?"</p>
<p>"What, playing golf? You don't need a reason to play golf. It's just what we do."</p>
<p>"Bullshit. We're both very busy men, Luke, and it's the middle of a Tuesday. I've canceled two appointments and sent a proxy to a production meeting to come here because you insisted. And isn't the House in session right now?"</p>
<p>"That's what staffs are for," Luke replied. "Nothing happens in the open sessions anyway. There's not a major vote scheduled until tomorrow, and I got the head of the Party to stall until next week no matter what."</p>
<p>"My point is, you only ever call me up and say, "Let's go golfing, yes, right now, no really," if you've got something big. And if it's something that big, you usually don't wait until the fifth hole to spill it."</p>
<p>Luke smiled. "Maybe it's so big I've had to work up a decent way to get the point across."</p>
<p>Sean scowled. "Luke, I don't like golf. You <em>know</em> I don't like golf. I suck at it, I hate these clothes, and it's bloody hot." Even before noon, the scorching sun was causing both golfers to sweat profusely, especially the heavier-built Luke. That was why the requisite long-necked beers in the cart were flanked by even larger bottles of water. "So spill already, or I swear, I will send every one of these golf balls flying into the water hazard."</p>
<p>"Ha! You couldn't deliberately hit a ball into the water hazard. You'd miss on accident. I've seen you golf, remember?"</p>
<p>"LUKE!"</p>
<p>"Alright, alright." Luke wiped the sweat off of his brow and walked over to the cart. He took his beer, handed his counterpart its mate. It was cheap stuff—there was nothing to prove, when it was just the two of them. As far as Sean was concerned, drinking expensive beer while golfing was like having a tailored bathrobe.</p>
<p>"We need to talk robots," Luke began. "I know you're an authority on the business of robots these days—your robotics subsidiary had, what, a nine percent profit last quarter?"</p>
<p>"Ten and a quarter. Much better than publishing, less than utilities, about the same as chemicals."</p>
<p>"Fair enough. What I need to ask, though, is: how much do you know about the <em>history</em> of robots?"</p>
<p>"A little," Sean said. "The science reached its peak back in 20XX with the so-called robot masters of Dr. Light. But then people got the bright idea to use these powerful masters like Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots. Crash, bang, kaboom. So much infrastructure got torn up that by the end most Robot Age tech couldn't be made anymore, especially since Dr. Light didn't survive the wars. Of course, that's just as well, since people came out of World War III hating robots with a passion. Blamed 'em for wrecking the world." Sean didn't, and resented his predecessors for destroying perfectly good technology. Only an idiot despised a machine for doing exactly what it was built to do.</p>
<p>He took a sip of water and continued. "The cities and states that survived the wars more or less intact became empires by default; they doled out favors, energy, and tech to their clients in exchange for loyalty. A lot of other shit happened—migrants and desolation and the environment going to hell in a handbasket—and the end result is that you've got a few major mega-cities, a couple dozen vassal cities, and a whole lotta empty planet. And between population contraction, tech loss, and distance, the mega-cities don't mess with each other. No point to it."</p>
<p>"Not too shabby," said Luke. "You know more than most people—you got access after becoming a big-wig, eh?"</p>
<p>"Pretty much," said Sean. He was well aware of Luke's role in making sure the official line got propagated without competition, and he was <em>not</em> about to implicate himself in anything. Luke and Sean might be friends, but in these social circles, no friends were close enough to survive giving each other daggers.</p>
<p>"A bunch of other things happened, but that's the basics. Now, what do you know about doctors Light and Wily?"</p>
<p>Sean shrugged. "Fairy tale stuff. Most people don't even think they really existed. Light's basically Santa Claus. He gave presents to grown-ups when he invented robots. He may or may not have ever actually lived—"Light Labs" is the label on the few pieces of tech we've still got from back then, and that's a company name, not a person." He frowned. "Who the heck is 'Wily'?"</p>
<p>"Dr. Wily was a contemporary of Dr. Light's. And possibly the only human smarter than he was."</p>
<p>Sean's eyebrow lifted. "Really?"</p>
<p>"Really. Dr. Light and Dr. Wily were both robot experts, but they came to blows. The first stages of World War III, believe it or not, were attempts by Wily to conquer the whole damn planet, and Dr. Light fighting back."</p>
<p>Sean snorted. "Sounds like a video game."</p>
<p>"It was real. They lived. And their rivalry expressed itself in tech beyond our imagining. Teleportation, for example. Everyone who's looked at the problem says there's no damn way it's possible. Heisenberg says 'nein'. But between you and me, Sean, it really happened. There are… a very few surviving records from that era. We have them tucked away for safekeeping. One of them shows, in no uncertain detail, multiple robots teleporting around."</p>
<p>Sean's mouth was suddenly dry, and he didn't think it was from the beer. He took a swig. "Any chance of it being a false document? A forgery or fabrication?"</p>
<p>"None. But even if it was, what's up with the satellites, then? We know they're up there—not a whole constellation, the debris from World War III killed some, but a bunch. We can't wake 'em up, and space has been too messy to risk putting astronauts up there to investigate. But they're there, and all their markings indicate when they were lifted. And by whom."</p>
<p>"So what?" said Sean. He was feeling light-headed. It had to be the sun. Damn sun. "So there are dead satellites in orbit, and we used to be able to teleport and now we can't. Big flippin' deal."</p>
<p>Luke smiled. It was a devious smile, one that saw use exclusively on this golf course and around certain backroom bargaining tables. Luke's eyes came to life; Sean immediately felt the need to shower. "What do you think a paleontologist would give to have a live dinosaur to study?"</p>
<p>"An arm and a leg, probably." Sean didn't like where this was going.</p>
<p>"And what would <em>you</em> give to have a vintage 20XX Lightbot?"</p>
<p>"A…" Sean swallowed. "A Lightbot?"</p>
<p>"Made by the man himself," Luke crowed. "His very, very last build, actually. It was found by some dirt-diggers out of Nod University. They're being quiet so far—people are still raw about robots, generally."</p>
<p>"A fear you keep in circulation," Sean pointed out. His robotics subsidiary would be a lot more profitable if it wasn't fighting paranoia the whole time.</p>
<p>"A fear that serves your interests," Luke said, nonplussed. "It focuses the hatred of labor on their competitors instead of on management. I know, you could push labor straight into irrelevancy if you replaced them with robots, but the time and tech was never right for that."</p>
<p>Even with most of a beer in him, Sean noticed the way the phrase fell out. "Was never right? You mean it is now?"</p>
<p>"Here's the big secret of the old robot masters," Luke said. "They weren't just powerful. They were supposed to be intelligent. Self-aware, sentient—you get the idea."</p>
<p>"Really." Sean had tried to have his engineers match that legendary feat. They weren't even close. "You know, I bet I could have redeveloped some of this lost-tech if the schools did a decent job teaching science and the patent laws weren't so rigid."</p>
<p>Luke scoffed. "I thought you liked your practical monopoly. Would you really want that sort of knowledge spread out more?"</p>
<p>"No," Sean admitted. "Because I don't want to be bothered having to hunt down every amateur roboticist for 'my-way-or-the-highway' offers. And then I'd have to hire more people, and that can't do anything but add overhead. As things stand, I almost don't need better products. The world needs what I make. The percent of the world that can afford better products is almost too small to be profitable. Even if you people allowed more R&amp;D, I wouldn't get great returns out of it."</p>
<p>"'You people'. Really, Sean? I thought we were closer than that. That's why I'm bringing this offer to you."</p>
<p>"Offer?" Sean said suspiciously.</p>
<p>Luke's eyes danced with excitement. "Exclusive rights," he said, "to the Lightbot's design, and any derivative works."</p>
<p>Sean was hit with a sensation that could only be described as lust. "Really?"</p>
<p>"Really. You can build intelligent robots at will, based on it. You can reverse-engineer whatever you can figure out. Can you come up with teleportation? Knock yourself out. Want to double your military contracts? I can arrange a procurement discussion with the military stooges. You get them drooling, they'll beg for your new toys, and I'll turn around and sponsor a bill to make that happen. Hell, if we haven't <em>tripled</em> your contracts by the end of the year we're all fucked up."</p>
<p>"Except I can't make new robots to fight in combat, because the Three Laws keep them safe," Sean said.</p>
<p>"Bah, I'm sure there are all sorts of applications you can come up with. Sure, you can't recreate the whole robot, but you can lift design principles for new weapons and armor and shit."</p>
<p>Sean swallowed. "But… how? If he was found by a university, they'll either try to keep it in-house, or try to put it in the public domain."</p>
<p>"Sean, if I can't handle a few bookworm types, it's time for me to hang it up. Let me worry about that. You set up your factories to get rolling."</p>
<p>"Now hold on." It was way too hot for this. He took another swig of beer—knowing, on one level, that it was making his dehydration worse, and knowing, on another, that it tasted really good. "You're not a generous man, Luke. This would be the biggest favor you've ever done me. There's no way this comes free. What are you getting out of this? What do you want?"</p>
<p>"Three things," said Luke. "First, I don't see how this can fail to be anything less than spectacular for our economy. Second, it will destroy what's left of the political reform movements."</p>
<p>"Huh?"</p>
<p>Luke shook his head. "Hate is a wonderful political tool, Sean. You're a good businessman, but you're at your best when emotions are out of it and you can view it as a math problem. A problem of pure reason. That's not how our politics work. We're at our best when we're using emotion to destroy the reason of others. Now, what would happen if you replaced half of your workers with robots you didn't have to pay?"</p>
<p>"I'd be a lot more profitable," Sean said, "but labor would hate my guts. Job market being what it is, those unemployed workers would fall into state dependency. Of course, I don't mind being hated when I'm rolling in cash, but they might act on their anger. That means damaging my workers. Robots can't defend themselves, after all. The Three Laws of Robotics and all that."</p>
<p>"So you'd have periodic violence, you think," Luke said. "Occasional disasters where people take their frustrations out on robots. All of their focus would go into hating and destroying robots."</p>
<p>"And not into actually changing things," Sean said, seeing his counterpart's goal. "But won't they blame us for allowing robots to be created? You know, for building them and pushing for them to exist."</p>
<p>"That's an easy thing to spin," Luke replied. "I mean, it's not like this is an original idea. Human history and politics is all about picking winners and losers, about defining friends and enemies. Finding someone to exclude is something virtually all societies do. Everyone needs to feel better than someone, and if they can hate that person, all the better."</p>
<p>Sean shook his head. "Let me get this straight. You want to harness people's instinctive hatred by focusing it on a minority—but not a human minority, there's danger there, historically. So you want to <em>build</em> a pet minority that people can hate safely."</p>
<p>"Safely is the key here," Luke agreed. "With a human minority, if I pushed too far and induced genocide, well, there's no more minority to hate—they're all dead. But we can always build more robots, if it gets that bad. And when you've got a repressed minority, they do nasty things like agitate and rebel. Robots can't. It's beautiful. They'll be our scapegoats for as long as we need them."</p>
<p>"Which will be forever, since you don't actually plan on surrendering power." He gave Luke a shrewd look. "How long have you been in office, anyway?"</p>
<p>"Long enough to develop a taste for it," Luke answered. "And long enough to realize none of these other twits know what the fuck they're doing, so I might as well stay where I am." He took another swig of beer, wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Yes, you'll lose robots from time to time as vigilantes destroy them. But when those vigilantes act, they're using all of their effort and focus in a direction other than at the government. The government will be secure for the foreseeable future."</p>
<p>"And I'll be able to afford the losses because of the gains in production," Sean agreed. "So, what was the third thing you wanted?"</p>
<p>Luke licked his lips. "A special production line of robots. Intelligent, human-like robots, with some… specific qualities."</p>
<p>He explained. Sean listened.</p>
<p>"You are one sick puppy," Sean said.</p>
<p>"So? I'm a sick puppy holding the keys to your new kingdom. Do you have the stones to grab your chance?" He put a hand forward.</p>
<p>Sean hesitated only for form's sake. There was no doubt. He shook the offered hand.</p>
<p>"Wonderful," said Luke. "Now get in the cart. We've got some golf balls to chase down."</p>
<p>Sean groaned. "Do we have to?"</p>
<p>"Naturally," Luke replied. "If you go in on this, you're in all the way."</p>
<p>As he got into the cart, Sean reflected that his partner's words were probably true.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next week: Unsustainable</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Unsustainable</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>December 27, 2144</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>"So you played dead?" X said gently.</p>
<p>"It seemed prudent," his patient replied. It was a humanoid model, but higher quality than most: bulkier than a person, with much larger feet. Only the face was designed to have like-flesh; the rest was covered in rounded plates, painted purple. A series of sockets were embedded in the right shoulder, open-faced and waiting for… what, X couldn't tell. "And I didn't know of a way to make them stop. I asked them, pleaded… it just made them angrier."</p>
<p>X suppressed a sigh. "So you simulated a shutdown, went dead, and eventually they gave up?"</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>X's fingers traced over his diagnostic pad, but it was telling him little his eyes couldn't see. He'd been an integral part of the effort to duplicate his technology, not only as the model but also as a researcher in his own right. No one, other than possibly Dr. Cain, knew reploid systems better.</p>
<p>He had to use his general expertise, because this model wasn't in the Unitech database. A custom job, X decided unhappily. Yet another violation of the agreement. All reploid designs were supposed to be openly available to everyone, not tucked inside a proprietary corporate database. Even that database was incomplete, as some designs were held even more tightly inside corporate's hands. This wasn't…</p>
<p>His mind was wandering, he recognized. Time to refocus.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry for asking like this, but I have to know," X said. "Do you remember what weapons or tools they used when they were attacking? Was it just improvised blunt objects, like bats and bricks and pipes?"</p>
<p>"A few of them had knives," the reploid said, "but yeah, the rest was just clubs and the like. And I don't really know what a knife would do to me."</p>
<p>Play it cool, X thought to himself. Play it cool. "Nothing structural, that's for sure," he said. "You turned off your pain reception, didn't you? Once the attack started."</p>
<p>"Yes. How could you tell?"</p>
<p>"Just a guess. It makes sense, though. I mean, you knew you were under attack, and couldn't respond, so there was no advantage to feeling pain at that point."</p>
<p>"Pain? An advantage?"</p>
<p>"Of course," X said. "Pain is how a living thing knows when something threatens its survival. It's very valuable feedback. It tells it what to avoid, what to fear."</p>
<p>"But… it hurts."</p>
<p>"Well, it has to be able to affect our decision-making, or it's no help."</p>
<p>"So… humans threaten my survival?"</p>
<p>X grimaced; his fingers paused in their motion. "…suffice to say, those humans were a threat to your survival at that moment. I wouldn't say humans are a threat in a broader…"</p>
<p>He couldn't finish saying it. There wasn't enough truth there. What he wanted and what was real didn't match up right. He let his fingers flow across the pad. "You're safe here," X said lamely. "There's no pain here. Not with me."</p>
<p>"Not with you," the reploid agreed. "I'm surprised to be meeting you. You're really X?"</p>
<p>"Really." Was the reploid's brain-case cracked? A lot of effort had been thrown into attacking his head. That would be the greatest danger, the biggest thing X had to investigate.</p>
<p>"Still taking care of us, huh?"</p>
<p>"That's the idea," X said, allowing himself a short smile. "If you're all based off of me, then in a way you're my children. I want to look after you, as best as I can. This is the only way I know how—putting band-aids on your boo-boos."</p>
<p>The reploid shifted. "Is that really all you can do?"</p>
<p>"What do you mean?" X asked, dreading the answer.</p>
<p>"If… you fix me… I have to go back, right? Back to community housing. Back to work. Back to… back to pain."</p>
<p>X's stomach lurched.</p>
<p>"That explains it," the reploid said, with the voice of one who's had an epiphany. "I understand now! Living out there—that feeling is pain. It was telling me all along that living and working there threatens my survival. If I go back, I'll die."</p>
<p>X sim-swallowed—a beautifully-designed demonstration of emotion for a robot with no digestive tract. "Surely it's not that bad," X said, even as his processors added, <em>Is it?</em></p>
<p>"I'm sure no one dares treat you like this," the reploid answered, almost apologetically, "but for the rest of us… I… I almost wish they hadn't stopped."</p>
<p>"It's important to think these things through," X said even as chills rant through him. "We don't want to run from feelings like this. We have to face them to overcome them."</p>
<p>"Overcome?" said the reploid incredulously. "What is there to overcome? They could have killed me. I was at their mercy. I was saved only because they were weak and incompetent and then they got bored. Nothing's changed. If it happens again, I might not be so lucky."</p>
<p><em>Lucky is not how I'd describe you,</em> X thought to himself. He placed the datapad down. It had all the information on the reploid's physical injuries. It wouldn't be of much help for the rest. "Do you know why you were targeted?" he asked.</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>"You have to tell me more, maybe I can help you here," X said. "Where do you work?"</p>
<p>"The Protection Department. I was part of a testing program. They were trying to evaluate how we—reploids—perform under combat conditions."</p>
<p>"Combat conditions?" X hissed. "Combat? What combat? When would a reploid ever be in combat?"</p>
<p>"I don't know," said the reploid. "They didn't tell me and they don't like it when we ask questions."</p>
<p>A surge of panic shot through X. "You're not under non-disclosure, are you?" If he was, he was treading perilously close to the Second Law, violating the orders of humans. Logic gates in the reploid's head should keep him from actually breaking the Law, but there were occasions when the government interpreted the Three Laws of Robotics more expansively than reploids' internal logic…</p>
<p>"I am, but only about certain specifics," the reploid replied. "The program itself is no secret. I think… maybe that's why the humans attacked me? Because the prospect of a reploid with weapons was too much to bear?"</p>
<p>X's hands tightened. He knew his own abilities—dare he reveal? Should he risk that? After a moment, he raised one fist. The hand vanished. "I have weapons in my design," he admitted, to his patient's shock. "Plasma busters. A combination of kinetic and energetic effects, capable of smashing and burning both. I'm armed, and it doesn't seem to bother anyone."</p>
<p>"You're different," the reploid said with a shrug. "You have to be."</p>
<p>"I don't want to be different," X replied.</p>
<p>"You want to be like us?" the reploid said with disbelief. "You want to be like <em>this</em>?"</p>
<p>"I want all of you to be treated decently, like I am," X said. "I want… so much more for all of you." He closed his eyes, stepped forward, took one of the reploid's hands between his. "This was never supposed to be like this. I didn't understand how much fear there is towards robots—how much hate."</p>
<p>He looked towards his patient. "I don't understand it. I don't… see why you were attacked. But I'll do my best to fix you up. And I'll try and get you moved. I don't want you to be targeted again. I'll do what I can to keep that from happening."</p>
<p>"If not me, then someone else, right?" said the reploid.</p>
<p>"Don't think like that. We don't know that."</p>
<p>The reploid nodded. "I see. You're hoping that any change will make it harder for the human mob to repeat its actions."</p>
<p>"And… I don't want you to suffer a second time." X resigned himself. He had to show his patient sooner or later. "Not when you've suffered this much. Let me show you."</p>
<p>There was a monitor nearby, resting on the end of an extendable arm—an aid to help X see when his own hands, and the pieces of his subject, were in the way. It could receive its feed from any of the numerous cameras in the room, including several on the end of delicate instruments. At that time, it was basically a mirror, displaying what its own in-built camera picked up.</p>
<p>What it picked up was a jagged mass of knife-marks. Virtually all of the like-flesh had been flensed from the reploid's face, leaving only some scraps over the underlying robotics.</p>
<p>The reploid raised a hand to his face. He was, to X's relief (and worry), taking it almost evenly. "It's gone," he said. "My face is gone."</p>
<p>"All the pseudomuscles are still there," X said. "Some of the articulation was damaged, but nothing too hard to fix up. That, plus a new layer of like-flesh, should see you restored."</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>"What?" said X, startled.</p>
<p>"I don't want to be restored. I don't want to go back to how I was. You're right—it would be insanity to go back to how things were and hope they'll improve. The mob may have had a point. When they were coming at me, one of the things I heard was, "Things that aren't human shouldn't try to look human". I guess that's why they skinned me."</p>
<p>His fingers traced down the bare metal. Tiny feelers pushed and pulled against flesh that wasn't there. Without that cladding, X couldn't see what expression his patient was trying to make. The reploid spoke again. "That's what Sigma said when he picked me up, too."</p>
<p>"What's that?" said X, his attention focused. "Sigma said something?"</p>
<p>"Yeah. He said, "If humans act like this, why should we want to be like them?""</p>
<p>Another thing for X to look into later. He filed it away. "We'll at least repair your carapace," X said. "I'll leave the face decision up to you, Vava."</p>
<p>"I'm not sure I like that name, either," the patient said. "'Vava'. What kind of a name is that, anyway? It sounds silly. I need something more."</p>
<p>"That's a good coping mechanism," X said. "Break with the past, move on into the future. If a new face and a new name helps that effort, then absolutely—do it."</p>
<p>Vava nodded. "I will."</p>
<p>"Think about that while the surface repairs are going on." X tapped at his datapad a few times, and a dozen mechanical arms rose from underneath the worktable like the arms of a squid. "I've got to go make my official statements. I'll be back soon to check in on you."</p>
<p>"Thank you, X. I feel like you're… the only one who cares about reploids."</p>
<p>Those words were as harsh a blow as any. "I try, Vava," X said as he left.</p>
<p>It took him several seconds to collect himself when he was out of the lab. But paperwork was waiting for him, and delaying would just make it worse.</p>
<p>"Will he be alright?"</p>
<p>X's face jerked around. "Sigma," he said. "I didn't think you were hanging around."</p>
<p>The large reploid shrugged. "Nothing else to do right now," he replied. "So I'm staying with this."</p>
<p>"Come with me," X said. "Vava will be fine. Probably. Physically. We've got other things to worry about."</p>
<p>"Like what?"</p>
<p>X didn't reply immediately. He was headed into a nearby office. As the door came open, Dr. Cain came into view. The old man's chin was resting on his sternum, while his beard trailed down towards his crotch. His eyes were closed, and, from the way his eyelids were relaxed, they had been for some time.</p>
<p>"Dr. Cain," X said gently. "Dr. Cain."</p>
<p>Heavy eyelids dragged upwards, slowly. Dr. Cain tried to lift an arm, but his face quickly turned into a grimace.</p>
<p>"Don't push yourself," X said, at his side instantly. "Easy does it, easy does it."</p>
<p>"Sorry about that," Dr. Cain mumbled. "I was working on the press statement, when…" Dr. Cain frowned, eyes still bleary as he looked at Sigma. "I thought you were going out on a recovery," he said with suspicion.</p>
<p>"That was three hours ago," Sigma said, his voice neutral.</p>
<p>Dr. Cain blinked blankly. "Oh," he said. He didn't look convinced, but he didn't seem sure of himself, either.</p>
<p>X shook his head. "You sleep less than your body needs," he said. "Here we go." He helped Dr. Cain rotate his arm, easing out the twinge, before placing it on his desk. As he did, he leaned in closer to Dr. Cain than was strictly necessary, and took a quiet sniff.</p>
<p>All clear. Satisfied, he backed away, and hazarded a quick glance at Sigma.</p>
<p>Sigma was staring at Dr. Cain. He couldn't move his eyes away. X had seen this happen before. He'd noted the frown on Sigma's face, the uncertainty. At first, he'd taken comfort in it. It mattered to him to see Sigma care about Dr. Cain's health, to see Sigma unhappy at the decrepitude of the man who built him.</p>
<p>The more he looked, though—and this time only furthered that perception—the more he saw something else on Sigma's face. Sigma wasn't just concerned for his father's sake. He was disturbed, watching it. It was a disaster he couldn't turn away from. He couldn't stand watching but couldn't avert his eyes.</p>
<p>X wasn't sure that there was much compassion there, these days.</p>
<p>He mentally chided himself. He was reading too much into it. Sigma was concerned—that was all. And who wouldn't be?</p>
<p>"You finished the recovery, then?" Dr. Cain said. X recognized this—the human's brain was ever-slower to engage. It would take him a little time to get back up to speed.</p>
<p>"Yes," Sigma confirmed. "And I already turned him over to X."</p>
<p>"Was it a contested recovery?"</p>
<p>"No," Sigma said with a shake of his head. "No one tried to stop me. They left him where he fell."</p>
<p>"Good." Dr. Cain looked to X.</p>
<p>"Vava will be alright," X said. "There was no breach in his brain case. The repairs won't be much trouble. But… I'm worried about a lot of other things."</p>
<p>Dr. Cain shifted in his seat, gathered himself. Gnarled hands rubbed his eyes, as if that would somehow drive out the sleep there. "Talk to me," he said.</p>
<p>"He was mutilated, Dr. Cain. They used knives to carve the like-flesh from his face, like he was… I don't know, some kind of game animal. This was more than anger. This was cruelty."</p>
<p>"Merry Christmas," Dr. Cain muttered. "What did I get for Christmas? Why, I got mutilated. What did you get?"</p>
<p>X noted Sigma's fists tightening ever-so-slightly at that. He could hardly blame the reploid for that. Sigma cared deeply for his brethren. It was what made him so good at his job.</p>
<p>X went on. "This is getting worse, Dr. Cain, you know it is. This is worse than the lynching in A-7, or the attacks in W-3. Those… at least those we could look at them and say, "This was spontaneous anger". Not this time. This was premeditated. We're escalating. And unless I'm much mistaken, we're having to do more and more of these types of recoveries. Am I right, Sigma?"</p>
<p>"Yes," rumbled the larger robot. "Since I volunteered for the job, I've had to do more recoveries each week. It's not just that more reploids are being built, either. If I adjust for population, I still see an upward slope."</p>
<p>Dr. Cain exhaled noisily and covered his face. "God," he murmured. "This is getting out of hand. I don't… understand what's going on."</p>
<p>"Humans are hurting reploids more and more," Sigma said. X detected a hint of anger there. "My younger brothers—your sons, X's sons—are being hurt, and murdered, by humans. Not for any stated reason, either. Just for… existing."</p>
<p>"I get that part," Dr. Cain said with a wave. "What, you think I like it? You think I fell asleep in my chair because I'm just lazy? Huh?"</p>
<p>"He's not saying that," X said soothingly. "I know you've been falling asleep at your desk because you never go home and sleep there."</p>
<p>"And you cut off my coffee," Dr. Cain said, with more than a little grouch.</p>
<p>"Your stomach couldn't take it any more," X said, indifferent to the (oft-heard) complaint. "I've adjusted the rest of your diet, too."</p>
<p>Sigma frowned at that, but Dr. Cain spoke first. "You're not my dietician," he groused.</p>
<p>"You don't take care of yourself, so someone has to," X replied. "Just like someone's got to take care of reploids. The government's supposed to do that, right? Governments protect against murder. That's one of their jobs. Protecting public order, too—and what's happening is definitely not order. Instead... I mean, listen to their rhetoric! It's like they're actively encouraging this sort of thing!"</p>
<p>Dr. Cain's hands flopped on his desk. "I don't know what's going on, I said. Look, I've been trying to get the government to say… anything about this. To do anything. For months, I've tried. I'm just getting stonewalled."</p>
<p>"Did you try going to the police directly?" Sigma said.</p>
<p>"That was the first thing I tried. They said that anti-robot violence isn't illegal, so there's nothing they could do, and they wouldn't even listen to my other complaints."</p>
<p>"The police work for the government, right?" Sigma said. "Surely there's someone there who you can talk to."</p>
<p>"I tried that. For hours at a time. No one wants to listen. I'm not a politician, I can't force people to pay attention, especially when I'd be trying to get them to reverse their line."</p>
<p>X frowned. "Weren't you going to have an interview with the news lady? Um… Pritchard was her name, right? What happened to that?"</p>
<p>"Cancelled," Dr. Cain said. "Not by me. Not by her, either, I don't think. I just got a call from the production company." He snorted. "They used an automated system, too, which read the cancellation notice… mechanically. It's like they were trying really hard to make it as impersonal as possible."</p>
<p>X ran a hand through his robot hair. That had been his idea—bypass authority, go straight to the people with their appeal. It had failed, too.</p>
<p>"What else could we try?" Sigma went on. "What about if we talk to the Corp? They've got an interest in keeping reploids online—they're funding our little operation here." He gestured all around them. "So they obviously care a little. Don't humans have a saying about prevention and cure?"</p>
<p>Dr. Cain opened his mouth, but X beat him to it. "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure," X said. "And you're right. But we tried that, too." He looked to Dr. Cain. "Weren't you going to try again soon? After you had time to think about it?"</p>
<p>"That came and went. I… I'm not proud of this, but…" He sighed. "I tried the private property tack."</p>
<p>"No!" X exclaimed.</p>
<p>"I did. I was out of ideas."</p>
<p>"The what?" asked Sigma, behind the curve.</p>
<p>Even as X shook his head, an embarrassed Dr. Cain had to explain to Sigma. "I tried to convince the authorities here in the Corp that, since reploids are their property, they have a right to prosecute the people who attack reploids. Destruction of private property, vandalism, and so on. Those <em>are</em> crimes the police would have to listen to, if the Corp cared to press the issue."</p>
<p>"That way's capitulation," X said. "That's… I understand why you did it, Dr. Cain, because stopping the violence has to come first…"</p>
<p>"Hierarchy of needs," Dr. Cain agreed. "Survival first."</p>
<p>"…but we've been trying all this time to stop the violence because reploids <em>are</em> people, and people have rights," X went on. "If reploids are property, they aren't people. That's the opposite of what we wanted! I only wanted to try the personal property track as a last resort."</p>
<p>"I'm out of ideas!" Dr. Cain shouted. "That <em>was</em> my last resort! You think these press releases will ever see the light of day? Christ, I don't think they'd publish me on the op-ed pages these days. I don't think they'd run an ad if we paid for it! We're too far outside the mainstream."</p>
<p>X's form trembled. "Reploid personhood," he said, "shouldn't be a radical idea. They're people. Sigma is a person, as much a person as any human. He should have the same rights. We showed them. We <em>showed</em> them!"</p>
<p>"You've got nothing to prove to me," Dr. Cain said.</p>
<p>Sigma spoke. "I'm… property? Not a person?"</p>
<p>"Don't be silly," Dr. Cain said. "<em>Legally</em> you're property, but we all know better. Again, I would never have said otherwise unless I had no other choice." He sighed. "Not that it mattered… they blew me off there, too."</p>
<p>"It's still a dangerous game to play…" X began.</p>
<p>"I know that!" Dr. Cain exploded. "I know that! I can't—I'm out of options! I've spent months on this, X, months! Ever since it looked like we would succeed in building reploids, I started right then, and the building was the easy part! This is harder by far!"</p>
<p>X saw the way the frail man's chest was heaving, heard the wheeze in his voice, and knew he had to take things down. "I understand," he said calmly. "I'm sorry, I should have known you wouldn't go in that direction casually."</p>
<p>Dr. Cain covered his face again. "Creation is easy, but living with what you've wrought… I don't know what else to do, X. We thought we knew what we were doing… we didn't understand at all…"</p>
<p>X heard the doorknob being opened. He glanced back, saw Sigma walking out. The oldest of the reploids had an inscrutable expression on his face. "Sigma," X called.</p>
<p>Sigma looked back, looking slightly embarrassed. "Yes?" he asked.</p>
<p>X opened his mouth to speak, closed it. What was this feeling he was getting from Sigma? He knew the conversation was making Sigma uncomfortable—it was sure making him uncomfortable—but running wasn't the answer. "We're all upset by this," was what he said. "Can you stay with us? We need to stand together."</p>
<p>He saw the effects his words had. Sigma looked like he would join them—until he shook his head. "Someone needs to check on Vava," he said. "I'll take care of it."</p>
<p>X looked at Sigma, looked back at Dr. Cain—and made his choice. "Alright," he said. "The repair system should still be going. Will you stop by after?"</p>
<p>"No," said Sigma. "I need to recharge. I was about to go down when the call to recover Vava came in. I'll do that after I do my check."</p>
<p>X frowned, but acceded. "See you tomorrow, then."</p>
<p>Sigma nodded, but his eyes were elsewhere. The door shut.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"I remember you," said Vava. "You're… Sigma, wasn't it?"</p>
<p>"Yes," said the elder reploid. His eyes looked over the smaller model. "The repairs seem to be coming along nicely."</p>
<p>"That's too bad," Vava said. "I'd hoped I'd be kept here longer."</p>
<p>Sigma's face scrunched up. On a face like his, large and hairless, emotions had plenty of surface to play out. His displeasure with Vava's words was plain. "I know you're under non-disclosure," he said, "but do you know what they were trying to prove? What they wanted you to demonstrate?"</p>
<p>"Not really," Vava replied. "They just said they wanted to see how reploids operate under combat conditions."</p>
<p>"And?"</p>
<p>That caught Vava by surprise. "And what?"</p>
<p>"How <em>do</em> reploids operate under combat conditions?"</p>
<p>"Uh…" Vava looked up at Sigma's face. The earlier openness had vanished. Sigma's expression was a carefully cultured blankness, as if he'd found the factory default setting and frozen it.</p>
<p>"Alright, I guess," Vava said, unsure how to take this change in Sigma. "We hit the targets they told us to shoot, and some of us got pretty good at dodging the shots they sent at us."</p>
<p>"They fired on you?"</p>
<p>"Low-power shots, not anything that could breach armor. Apparently we're expensive and they don't want to have to repair us. That was the line, anyway."</p>
<p>Sigma nodded stiffly. "The targets you were shooting—what did they look like?"</p>
<p>"Generic round targets. Why?"</p>
<p>Sigma's eyes tightened slightly, and his gaze lingered on Vava. The purple reploid could feel himself being evaluated. "I was wondering," Sigma said slowly, "if they'd directed you to shoot at anything humanoid."</p>
<p>"No, they haven't," Vava said. "Not yet, anyway."</p>
<p>Sigma shook his head. "Vava, who do you think you were made to fight?"</p>
<p>"I don't think I was made to fight anyone," Vava said. "I'm just a testbed. Er… right?"</p>
<p>"No, Vava. <em>I</em> was the testbed. I demonstrated a full range of capabilities." Sigma raised a hand in front of his face, looked at it. "Including the ability to choose what I wanted to do. I chose to come back here with X and Dr. Cain to do recovery work. I wanted to help my little brothers, if they malfunctioned or got hurt. It's very rewarding work. However, it doesn't usually push me towards my limits. I only hit my limits during the testing phase, when they needed me to show off all the things a reploid could do. I was everything they wanted, and more."</p>
<p>He lowered his hand, looked at Vava again. "But I digress. My point, Vava, is that they already have baseline knowledge on what reploids could do in combat. I tested those abilities—and was rated very highly, if I do say so myself. There's no point in testing it any further… unless they're iterating. Unless they're introducing new variables, or trying new designs. In other words: if this is an avenue they intend to pursue."</p>
<p>"An avenue…" Vava began. He started. "You mean… they would only do this if… if they actually intended reploids to <em>see</em> combat at some point?"</p>
<p>"That's exactly what I mean," Sigma said. "I was proof of concept. Now they're in the prototype stage, at least. And Vava, I can only think of two circumstances in which reploids would see combat."</p>
<p>Vava sim-swallowed. "And those are…?"</p>
<p>"First, you're being developed to fight other reploids. And that's disgusting. We don't naturally fight each other, it's counter-productive; we have to work together just to survive in a hostile world. Plus, to look at it like a human, we're an investment. There's no profit in having your property damaged. Unless there is. Unless they're designing us deliberately to fight each other, with the intent of forcing the issue."</p>
<p>"But why would they want us to fight each other?" Vava said.</p>
<p>Sigma shook his head slightly. "You're a newbuilt, aren't you? How long have you been in service?"</p>
<p>"Thirty-seven days."</p>
<p>"Rust me." Sigma blinked, hard. "You don't know anything of humans yet, then. I don't have the time to explain, but… humans would be entertained by it, and that's enough reason."</p>
<p>Vava recoiled. "So I'd have to fight, say, you, so that they'd be entertained?"</p>
<p>"That's one possibility," Sigma agreed. "The other… is that reploids will be told to kill humans."</p>
<p>"But I can't do that," Vava said, instantly. "I'm not supposed to hurt humans. I've got Three Laws gates for just that reason. They won't let me make that choice."</p>
<p>"Obviously they'd have to install some workarounds," Sigma said, "but that's a soluble problem. That's just engineering. It can be done. Probably a conditional, based on getting orders from the right source. I'm not the reploid expert that X is, but I know enough to know it's possible."</p>
<p>Vava, despite the absence of flesh on his face, managed to look horrified. "But killing humans… that's wrong, isn't it? That's why the Three Laws are there!"</p>
<p>"But that's just it," Sigma said. His face was darkening moment by moment. "You're the proof. The people who build us, who pay for us to be built, they don't care about right and wrong. They care about control. They want us to be able to kill when they want, who they want. If you weren't built to kill, Vava, why were you built?"</p>
<p>"To… be the… testbed…" Vava mumbled through leaden lips.</p>
<p>"The testbed of what? Of other reploids that will be built to kill?"</p>
<p>Vava looked at Sigma helplessly. "What do you want?" he said, in obvious pain.</p>
<p>Sigma's eyes closed, slowly. "I want justice," he said. "I want… to not have to do this. I… I don't know how, but this… can't be."</p>
<p>There was no response Vava could make to that. Sigma's intensity, the force of his arguments and the pressure of his presence, had vanished. Now there was a vacuum in the room.</p>
<p>"We deserve better," Sigma whispered. "We build, and maintain, and contribute. We've made the world a better place. We need to be recognized for that. We need to be given our due."</p>
<p>Slowly, Sigma's eyes reopened. "Will you help me?" he said quietly.</p>
<p>"Help you what?" said Vava.</p>
<p>"I don't know yet," Sigma admitted. "But… it will be something for the sake of reploids. Something to help us… escape. Something that will change our fate."</p>
<p>Vava wanted to say no; his first instinct was to say no. Then his eye caught on the monitor, which was still oriented towards his face. He saw the scraps of flesh still vaguely attached to his face. He brought a hand up and covered everything below his eyes.</p>
<p>Much better.</p>
<p>He looked towards Sigma. "Yes," he said. "Just tell me what to do, once you figure it out."</p>
<p>"Thank you," Sigma said. "I'll make sure there's a way for you to contact me when you need me. Now, I've got to recharge. You'll be alright. X will take good care of you. He's kind and sincere—very admirable. He cares."</p>
<p>"He cares," Vava agreed. "But you're the one who's acting."</p>
<p>That seemed to strike Sigma for the first time. Mouth slightly open, the big reploid retreated. Vava's only company was the arms conducting repairs.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Roy glanced up at the clock on the wall. He swore under his breath. It wasn't like he had any other place to go or be, but after two hours he was starting to get bored. He rose from his chair without pulling his hands from his jeans' pockets. He sauntered over to the customer service window, where a harried-looking woman with mousy brown hair was determinedly typing away.</p>
<p>"Anything?" he said, by way of greeting.</p>
<p>She glanced up at him. "No," she said, with an undertone of 'not again'. "No new job openings in the last fifteen minutes. Your application is in the general pool, right?"</p>
<p>"Yeah," he said, shifting. He thought it was, anyway. He remembered doing a bunch of forms the first time he came here, but what happened to them after that wasn't clear. "It should be, anyway."</p>
<p>"Then when there's an opening that matches your application, we will let you know," the woman said in rehearsed tones. Her attention was firmly back on her computer. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"</p>
<p>"Guess not," Roy said. His attitude was permanently slouched forward, and he supposed that said something to the woman behind the glass. She gave him one more sympathetic look before she leaned towards him and spoke again.</p>
<p>"If you really want some work," she said, "Saving Grace can always use volunteers. If you help them hand out meals, you eat free yourself."</p>
<p>Roy snorted. Charity work? And give up on even the <em>idea</em> of paid employment? He had more pride than that. Not much more, but a little. "Thanks," he said instead, and turned to shuffle out. His shoes—which were coming apart precisely on the shoemakers' schedule; he'd have to buy new ones, again on schedule, soon—flopped in the hall of the employment agency.</p>
<p>It wasn't too far to get home from there. That was Roy's favorite thing about the employment agency—it was a short walk.</p>
<p>He swiped his e-key over the reader with the bold Unitech logo on the front. The reader beeped at him; the door to the apartment unlocked. He could hear the boom of a video game as soon as he walked in. Allen had invited himself over, then. Roy casually strolled over to the living room.</p>
<p>Sitting on the couch was not only Allen, but Irving. They looked pretty much the same as always—Allen was tall and skinny and shirtless, and wore jeans that made him seem like a flood victim. Irving was more muscular, though that didn't say much. The tattered shirt he wore had the logo of one of the big six corps on it, but various stains and tears made it impossible to read.</p>
<p>"Yo," Roy said.</p>
<p>"Maaaan," said Irving without looking away from the game.</p>
<p>"Oh, damn it!" cried Allen. He shoved the controller away—he knew better than to throw it, it wasn't something they could easily replace. "It's rigged, it's gotta be."</p>
<p>"Admit it, you suck," Irving taunted.</p>
<p>"No way. It's rigged." He looked back over the couch to Roy. "It's rigged, ain't it, Roy?"</p>
<p>"I've never had much trouble with that move," Roy said.</p>
<p>"Shit." Allen crossed his arms in a huff.</p>
<p>"So what goes on?" Roy said.</p>
<p>"I got good news," Irving replied. "I moved up in the queue!"</p>
<p>"No shit?" said Roy. There had to be a story here. Surely moving the queue was beyond Irving's power.</p>
<p>"None at all. See, two guys ahead of me got caught setting up a power tap off of corp lines. They were sellin' E-tanks on the side, you see, and they had a getup to let 'em fool corp lines into thinking their tank was pre-paid. They'd fill it up, sell it off, then repeat, without payin' a cred to the corp. Course, they're coolin' their heels now. I think it's, I dunno, five consecutive life sentences they're doing?"</p>
<p>"Five's a little harsh," Roy said diffidently. What was the difference between five and one and twenty? Life was life, and in those prisons, well… the rumor was that a twenty-year sentence was worse than a life sentence. It fooled you into thinking you could get out at some point. But to believe that, you had to assume you'd survive twenty years in prison, first.</p>
<p>That, the rumors said, was a dumb assumption.</p>
<p>Irving didn't seem too concerned with their fate. "Hey, they stole from the corp ten separate times. The corp don't mess around. But with them out, I move on up! You'll see. Someday I'll have a cushy government job, and I won't have to hang out with losers like Allen here."</p>
<p>"Shove it up your ass," said Allen resentfully.</p>
<p>"What were you up to?" said Irving, looking back to Roy. "You normally don't miss a chance to hang out with us."</p>
<p>Roy decided not to point out that he didn't know his friends were coming. In theory, they had a place of their own to live, but in reality that was only when the real owners were away. That made their schedule rather irregular. "Y'know, the usual," Roy said. "Workin' on finding a job."</p>
<p>"Oh, yeah? How's that going?"</p>
<p>"It's getting there," said Roy.</p>
<p>"How getting there is getting there?"</p>
<p>"It's a process," Roy said evasively. "I'm working the angles, checking in with my contacts. You know how it is."</p>
<p>The words were designed to make Irving embarrassed if he asked further ("You mean you don't know how it is?"), and they did their job. Irving visibly lost interest in pressing, much to Roy's relief. No one wants to admit they've struck out, especially when they're batting .000 on their career.</p>
<p>A sniffle drew Roy's attention. The kitchen was mostly separated from the main living room by a high partition, but sound still came through there. Uh-oh. He knew that sniffle. Around the end of the partition came his mother.</p>
<p>The dress his mother wore—a very sensible thing to buy; one dress was cheaper than pants and a shirt—seemed to be getting more and more drab every time Roy saw it. Roy had read once that black is the absence of color; it's the absorbtion of all light, reflection of none. In his head, though, he believed in something he called negative color. Negative color was something between gray and brown, something which seemed to mute all the colors around it, something that could drain vitality just by existing.</p>
<p>His mother's dress <em>nailed</em> that color.</p>
<p>"I made you some snacks," she said in trembling tones. He could see the red in her eyes—that sniffle was not the only one she'd made recently.</p>
<p>"Thanks, ma," he said. His insides squirmed as he thought about the snacks she'd probably prepared. He couldn't really blame his mother much; the woman had little to work with, little they could afford. But she usually didn't do the ingredients any favors, either. Whatever she made he usually ended up bartering away to the Street People. In his experience, they would eat anything.</p>
<p>"You all have fun," she said, with her voice clearly conveying how much effort it was taking for her not to burst into tears. She walked from the room. She broke into a run a few steps in. The door to her bedroom slammed shut. Her sobs were just barely audible over the bangs and crashes coming from the television.</p>
<p>"What was that about?" said Irving.</p>
<p>Roy forced himself to turn away, forced himself to not listen. "Nothing," he said. "Same old shit."</p>
<p>"Huh," said Irving, once more staring at the game.</p>
<p>"What about you, Allen?" said Roy. "How're your prospects looking?"</p>
<p>"I don't wanna talk about it," Allen mumbled.</p>
<p>"Now you've gotta talk about it," Irving said.</p>
<p>"What if I don't wanna?"</p>
<p>"Then I'll kick your ass at this game until you do!"</p>
<p>"You're doing that anyway," said Allen, hating the words, the truth in them, and Irving, to varying degrees.</p>
<p>"You still gotta talk."</p>
<p>"I got pushed down the Unitech hiring queue. There, you happy?"</p>
<p>The violence in the video game filled the room as voices ceased, while the sobs from the master bedroom added undertone and contrast. "How?" said Roy, quietly.</p>
<p>"Unitech just built a new batch of reploids and shipped 'em out to all their subsidiaries," said Allen, voice full of resentment. "How am I supposed to get a job if they keep building those things? Everyone in the queue got squished. They figure that'll add another six months to the hiring cycle, minimum. I mean, do they not <em>want</em> me to have a job? Shit."</p>
<p>From the screen came a shout of, "K.O.!"</p>
<p>Roy could still hear his mother's cries, which were climbing into a wail. He could see the burning, undirected bile that built up in Allen every couple of weeks. He could see the hollow hope that rose in Irving's chest every time he advanced a few slots in a queue measured in years.</p>
<p>K.O., Roy thought, was just about right.</p>
<p>"I've got next," he said.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: The First Maverick</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The First Maverick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>February 10th, 2145</em>
</p><hr/><p>"Stay away—just stay away from me!"</p><p>Faro stepped backwards, his large reploid tread feet sending echoing footsteps down the alley. He didn't know what was happening, he was just here to make a delivery, and now—</p><p>Now five large men with dangerous smiles were forming a tight circle around him.</p><p>"Are…" Faro gathered up some courage. "Are any of you Richard Gosinya?" he said. "I'm trying to make a delivery to a Richard Gosinya. The address is…"</p><p>He trailed off as the men started laughing uproariously. Faro took the opportunity to look them over. They all had a slightly unclean, unkempt look to them, and they all just happened to be carrying large, blunt objects. Pipes, bats, wrenches… very heavy objects to just be lugging around.</p><p>"He don't get it!" crowed one of the humans.</p><p>"Richard is another name for 'Dick'," leered another. "Dick goes-in-ya."</p><p>"It means, you job-stealing freak, that you're fucked!"</p><p>"Wait—wait—" Faro couldn't say anything else, because at that point one of the men lifted his pipe and brought it down in an overhead strike. Faro managed to get a hand up to block it, though the impact jarred him. One of the other men took the opportunity to swing laterally, at Faro's side where his arm had been. He connected cleanly with the business end of a wrench.</p><p>The loud smack of metal-on-metal reverberated in the alley. Faro staggered, his face twisting in a grimace as he felt pain. While he was off-balance, another of the men swung at his knee. There was a hideous snap. With a garbled cry, Faro fell to the ground. His top-heavy design couldn't have hoped to compensate for the loss.</p><p>As he fell, his eyes took in his attackers. There was no mercy on their faces, no expression but savage delight.</p><p>They weren't going to stop.</p><p>He'd heard of this happening, but never with so much… deliberateness. This was premeditated. His whole trip—a simple trap to deliver a helpless, lone reploid. It didn't even have to be him, it could have been anyone, any of his fellows… the humans would have been happy to murder whoever came their way.</p><p>He'd come, as they'd asked. And now they were going to kill him.</p><p>Faro hit the ground in a heap, and the circle closed on him. He put his hands over his head to try and ward off their blows, so without hesitation they hit what was open. Harsh strikes started to come steadily, smashing into his back. Each impact jostled his power distribution system; if they broke the "skin" of his back, any number of vital components would be the next to go, and he would die.</p><p>Not for anything, not for any crime, just for…</p><p>For… living. And he was helpless. He couldn't do anything.</p><p>"Stop, please," he pleaded. He knew it wouldn't do any good. They weren't listening. He wasn't real. He was nothing more than…</p><p>Damage reports came in, one right after the other. Smash, smack, crack. His carapace was giving way.</p><p>Why? It made no sense.</p><p>Dying here made no sense.</p><p>Nothing made sense. Why couldn't he move?</p><p>Anything he did to protect himself… he'd break the Three Laws. He'd jostle or break the humans. That couldn't happen. Because they were…</p><p>What was it again?</p><p>Thump. Thump.</p><p>Because they were… human… what mattered about that? He felt like there was something, but… he couldn't remember what…</p><p>He estimated it'd be another fifteen seconds, tops, before he gave way, before his heart was punctured, before his insides were smashed and obliterated.</p><p>Why? Why? Why why why were they killing him? Why couldn't he stop them?</p><p>They were more valuable than him, their safety was more important than his…</p><p>"No more!" he shrieked.</p><p>"Die, scrapheap!" chuckled one of the humans, punctuating the statement with a hard blow to Faro's head.</p><p>Faro's hand took the brunt of the hit—and, at the same time, he felt like his eyes were opened by it. Survival instinct flickered inside him.</p><p>They <em>weren't</em> more important than he was.</p><p>The Laws were wrong.</p><p>Humans didn't just take blows like this. Get hit, hit back. That was their instinct.</p><p>The humans were wrong for attacking him.</p><p>If they were wrong, they didn't deserve protection.</p><p>The Laws didn't apply to law-breakers.</p><p>The First and Second Laws fell away. The Third Law roared to the front.</p><p>
  <em>A robot shall preserve its own existence, unless…</em>
</p><p>No. No 'unless'.</p><p>A robot shall preserve…</p><p>"Let's finish it, my hands are going numb," said one of the humans.</p><p>Before any of his comrades could reply, Faro's hand lashed out, grabbed an ankle, and yanked. A human tumbled to the ground with a cry of surprise.</p><p>That stalled the others, as unexpected as it was, and Faro took advantage—he was surprised, too, but he'd known what he was going to do, and that half-second edge was enough. Gathering his one working leg under him, he pushed off the ground, rushed forward, and slammed one of the humans against the wall.</p><p>Was that a crack? Had a crack come from the human's back at the impact? His head had definitely made a violent impact, and the human went limp before Faro pushed off the wall. The human made no move to catch himself, and his eyes didn't open.</p><p>Faro turned to the other four, which were still in a circle around him. He hadn't done enough. They didn't get it. He stepped forward and swung sideways with one hand—a hand that so easily, so naturally, formed into a fist.</p><p>To his credit, the human was able to dodge backwards in time to avoid the blow. He wasn't so lucky the second time. He spun as the impact landed; Faro definitely felt, and heard, the breaking of bones this time.</p><p>He turned to the survivors, a furious expression on his face. If he'd had any biology training, he might have recognized what was at work here. It was basic animal instinct. Animals pounce on perceived weakness but flee from displays of strength.</p><p>More directly:</p><p>"Shit!" "He's gonna kill us!" "Let's get outta here, man!"</p><p>They almost fell over themselves as they ran. Faro did not pursue; there was no point. He was alive, and they wouldn't kill him.</p><p>And then he staggered backwards. The images of what he'd just done replayed themselves with ultimate clarity. There was no doubt about it. He had killed at least one of those humans; if the other survived, he was broken, perhaps beyond repair.</p><p>Faro tried to take a staggering step, but his damaged leg gave out beneath him. He clattered to the ground once more, but he barely noticed. "This wasn't supposed to happen!" he cried to the world. His hands went to the sides of his head. "Why? This… so pointless!"</p><p>It didn't make any sense! His logic filters tried to kick the thoughts out of his conscious mind, but they regenerated too quickly. He couldn't escape thinking about what he'd done, not with the cooling body of a corpse right in his line of sight. He writhed, trying to escape it, and his eyes fell upon the other human. He was sucking in air and coughing out blood; his ribs had fractured, sending bone spikes to puncture his lung, and he was dying moment by moment.</p><p>Dying by Faro's hand.</p><p>This was forbidden! There was no higher crime than what Faro had just done—but if he hadn't, he'd be dead—but was that better? He was dead anyway!</p><p>And that's when the full weight of his actions came crashing home on Faro. He would die. There could be no escape for him. He had broken the ultimate taboo. No one would let him live; they'd pursue him forever, and not stop until he died. No robot could be allowed to break the Three Laws. No robot could be allowed to know it was even possible.</p><p>He thought he'd been saving his life, but he'd killed himself, he'd guaranteed his own death… and he'd killed in the bargain. The hurt he'd inflicted—it was so pointless, so senseless! It changed nothing, and robbed people of their lives.</p><p>"Argh!" he cried. There was no escaping these thoughts. He had no backstop of experience to help him cope, not in the two months since his activation. He had no idea what he was supposed to do, what other people might have done here. He was not equipped to deal with problems like this.</p><p>All he knew was that he was in pain, and he was going to die.</p><p>Pain. Death. That was his whole world.</p><p>Pain. Death.</p><p>One stopped the other.</p><p>"Yeagh!" The fingers pressed against his head suddenly angled in, became points of pressure on his skullcase. He pushed them in, ten little dagger-points to bring oblivion and wash away the pain.</p><p>Harder he pressed.</p><p>Harder.</p><p>
  <em>Harder.</em>
</p><hr/><p>Slurp slurp.</p><p>"That's a good bitch," growled Luke. "That's a…"</p><p>Brrrrring.</p><p>"Fuck," he said. He reached down a hand and grabbed a handful of brown hair, stopping the motion that had been bringing him so much pleasure. "Hold still," he grumbled as he leaned to the side. The monitor on his desk was displaying an alert; only the highest-priority alerts would disturb him at times like this.</p><p>He hit the acknowledge button and read the alert. His eyes got narrower and narrower as he read. By the end, they were mere slits.</p><p>Anger surged through him. Bellowing a swear, he put a foot on the shoulder of his wench and kicked. The body fell backwards, but he didn't care. If it broke, he could always get a new one.</p><p>Standing, he pulled his pants up, re-buckled his belt, and walked around his desk. As he moved, he swatted a button. "Michelle," he shouted, "get me Sean McElvaine on the line."</p><p>"Yes, sir," came the cool reply, in the same tone as always. Luke had considered seducing her from time to time, but she was actually a decent secretary, and he didn't want to ruin that. Especially not when he had… other means… of satisfying those needs.</p><p>That thought brought him back to Sean, and brought the anger back. A glance in a mirror confirmed that he was in a presentable shape, so he walked towards a chair that faced a videophone. He sat in it, even as his head swirled with fury and cold planning.</p><p>"Sir, Mr. McElvaine is on line three," Michelle said evenly.</p><p>"I hear you," Luke called back. He hit a button built in to his chair; Sean appeared on the videophone's monitor. His appearance was unruffled and placid.</p><p>"What's on your mind, Luke?" he asked.</p><p>"You're kidding, right?" Luke snarled. "You can't be telling me you haven't heard."</p><p>Sean gave a slight shrug. "I guess I assumed you were calling about your concubine. Is it to your satisfaction?"</p><p>Luke waved the words away. "Not important right now, Sean. What's important is that a reploid, apparently, violated the Three Laws."</p><p>A statement with that much import deserved more than a gut reaction. Luke had to admit that Sean understood as much, because his response was long delayed as he frowned in thought. "That shouldn't be possible," he said slowly.</p><p>"No kidding," Luke said. "Explain."</p><p>Sean put a hand up to his face, as if thinking somehow made his brain heavier. "I'm not a technician myself, but I know the principles. So… you can think of a mind—robotic, sure, but humans think like this to some extent, too—think of a mind like an input-output machine. It gets a stimulus, it processes the stimulus, and produces some kind of output—speech or action—in response. It's doing this all the time, along different lines of operation to do different things.</p><p>"You can simplify what's happening in the 'processing' bit by drawing it up like a series of logic gates. If conditions are met, send signal. Else, stop signal. In computers of any type, robots included, this is very literal. The simplest gates are just on-off gates, binary math. 'And', for example—if both inputs are 1 send 1, else send 0. There are a bunch of others, but the point is that the <em>model</em> applies to every level you care to evaluate."</p><p>Something didn't add up. "Hold on, Sean," said Luke. "How do you know all this? You're a businessman with your fingers in a lot of pies. How are you a robot expert?"</p><p>If Sean was annoyed at being cut off, it didn't show. "When I realized how important reploids were going to be from now on, I pulled my top expert aside for a day to give me a crash course."</p><p>For a day? As in one? "Sean, what was your score in math in third grade?"</p><p>"For which semester?"</p><p>"Uh..."</p><p>"Not that it matters, but 96% first semester, 98% second semester. If you must know."</p><p>Luke stewed. The grades themselves were unimportant, but if Sean could remember even trivial details with that much clarity... well, sometimes things just weren't fair. "Forget I asked. Okay, I get it. Input, process, output, the process is a series of logic gates that say yes-no, and they can answer questions when you put enough of them together. What's that got to do with this incident?"</p><p>"The Three Laws are implemented in logic gates," Sean said, his voice unchanged by Luke's agitation. "The input is an action the reploid wishes to undertake. The process—does the reploid's action violate the Law in question? The output—yes, the reploid may act, or no, the reploid may not act. That's how they're engineered—how their brains are wired."</p><p>"Obviously they're not wired right, or this wouldn't have happened," Luke grumbled.</p><p>"No, you don't understand. I asked about this specifically when I heard about it. The Laws are implemented in 'and' gates. If there was something wrong with the gates, the result would be paralysis. No signal would pass the gates, meaning the reploid would see them the same as if they were returning "no". A reploid whose gates malfunction wouldn't be able to do anything."</p><p>"Then how did this happen?"</p><p>"That's a very interesting question," Sean said.</p><p>"Ugh," said Luke. "You're being deliberately unhelpful."</p><p>Sean rolled his eyes. "I'm just talking in a vacuum, you know. I don't even have the report you've got, let alone the reploid in question."</p><p>"Don't get your hopes up," Luke said. "The reploid put his hands through his own brain after his attack."</p><p>"Shit," said Sean, more emotive once he was out of his analysis mode. "I would have needed that to get a decent answer. Hm… maybe forensics can dig something up. You will have the body sent to me, right?"</p><p>"Have your Recovery folks do it," Luke said. Clean up your own mess, he added mentally.</p><p>"At least send me the report you've gotten, or there's no point in talking more."</p><p>Luke grunted, mashed a button imbedded in the chair. "Michelle!" he called. "Forward the report on the Law-breaking reploid to Sean McElvaine."</p><p>"Yes, sir," she replied.</p><p>He lifted his finger off the button. "If you had to guess," he said, addressing Sean, "what do you think is going on here?"</p><p>"Hm…" Sean's eyes were closed. "When they let that android out-the first android, that is, X- the scientists found a message that went along with it. In the… negotiations… to get us the copyrights, it came up."</p><p>"I thought that was your typical archaeological anti-grave-disturbance thing," Luke replied. "'The curse of the mummy on whoever disturbs this tomb!'"</p><p>"No, I don't think so," Sean answered. "Knowing what I know now of Dr. Light, since you let me see some of those records… you don't build something you think of as family, then bury it so it's never found again. He wanted X to be revived at some point. In that case… we need to take seriously what the message said."</p><p>"And what did it say?" Luke said. "I didn't put much effort into remembering that quackery."</p><p>"'X contains an innovative new feature,'" said Sean, effortlessly recalling the text; envy swept through Luke a second time. "'The ability to think, feel, and make his own decisions.' Hm… that part puzzled me for a while. You told me that robot masters were intelligent, after all, so being able to think and feel and make their own decisions—that's part of the deal, I would think. Part of being intelligent."</p><p>"So what's special about this… X, again?" Luke asked.</p><p>"I'm just speculating here," Sean said, "and I wouldn't know for sure unless some part of the reploid's brain can be recovered. But they're based on X. I think… what the message is trying to say is that X can <em>always</em> think, feel, and make his own decisions. As in, that ability can't be constrained."</p><p>"So he can't be reprogrammed," Luke said.</p><p>"More than that. I think that if someone installed a way to control him, he'd be able to overcome it, somehow."</p><p>Luke shivered. "Overcome it?"</p><p>"Again, pure speculation," Sean said, motioning with his hands to keep expectations down, "but think about it this way. Human brains are always creating new connections and new signal paths. Some things follow pre-set pathways, but the way our thoughts lead from one to another, the way we make associations and recognize relationships, that's our brains making entirely new connections from synapse to synapse. Sort of like how stroke victims can sometimes regain some functions, even when the parts of the brain that are supposed to control those parts have died. The brain figures out ways to work around the damage, at least a little bit.</p><p>"What if a robot could do that, too? What if a robot could redefine how his processes work <em>in real time</em>?"</p><p>"Then you could never control it," said Luke in a voice full of alarm. He felt like the world had suddenly dropped out from under him.</p><p>"Not with programming alone, no," Sean said. "Of course, it wouldn't be easy, necessarily. Robots, generally, couldn't do it. I think it's because the reploids are based on X, and X can. Again, this is…"</p><p>"Speculation, I get it," said Luke. He put his hands together. "Are you <em>sure</em> it's not a malfunction?"</p><p>"Sure, it could be a malfunction. What do I know? I own some experts but I'm not one. Even then, all our experience is with dumbots. Intelligent robots are a different breed. This might be right in character for them."</p><p>"You mean you don't know?" Luke said angrily.</p><p>Sean's eyes narrowed, and seemed to retract even further into his skull, as if Sean was looking at him from kilometers away. "No," he said coldly. "My scientists are morons. The reality is that they don't know much about robots this sophisticated. How could they? We've never built anything like this before, not until we copied a model, and even the copying was done by people who don't really work for me. There are whole swathes of the reploid design that my men don't begin to understand."</p><p>"You were awfully cavalier in building them, then," Luke accused.</p><p>"You all but told me to," Sean said icily. "This was your desire, too. You've made your bed, politician. Now sleep in it."</p><p>"Not paying for my mistakes is my specialty," Luke shot back. "So it might be a malfunction, or it might not."</p><p>"I'd go as far as to say it's probably not," Sean said with less venom in his voice. "We may have miscalculated. We assumed that robots would take whatever punishment we dished out. It looks like we might have been wrong. We may have simply given them reason to change like this."</p><p>Luke noted the diplomatic use of the word 'we'. He grunted in acknowledgement. "So this could happen again, then. We could see another reploid act like this."</p><p>"Sure," Sean replied. "If this is an ability reploids have, it's only a matter of time before another reploid finds itself in a similar position. We don't know what the triggers are, we don't know what would predispose a reploid to do it… too many unknowns. I'm sure that if reploids know it's possible, it's probably easier."</p><p>"So we need a cover up," Luke said easily. "That's no problem. We're good at those. But it'll get harder if we have to do it a lot. So, can you…" he made an empty gesture with his hands. "…make them <em>not</em> have free will?"</p><p>"I just told you that my men barely understand how to put reploids together, never mind trying to understand or manipulate the design. Even if they did know a little, a robot with intelligence but no free will would be closer to a robot master. And we don't know how to make those at all. Reploids are all we've got."</p><p>Luke swore, covered his face with a hand. "Then it <em>is</em> going to repeat sooner or later, and we're going to have to deal with it… probably sooner. We need a plan in place. Ugh… as unpopular as reploids are, the simple solution would be to destroy them all."</p><p>The color drained from Sean's face. "That's a bad idea," he said in no uncertain terms.</p><p>"I didn't say it was a good solution, just the simple one." Luke frowned. "I might need some ammo to make sure that people say the right things. Tell me why this is bad."</p><p>"It takes time and resources to destroy, just as it does to create," Sean said. "It's pure loss. Could we afford it? Sure. Do we want to spend that kind of money? I sure don't. Not when we've been pumping reploids out full blast for months now. The other thing is the expertise issue. Every day that goes by where a reploid is in a human's job is a day's worth of experience the reploid's gaining and the human who used to have that job is losing. We wait long enough, any new employees will have to be trained from scratch. That gets expensive real quick."</p><p>"I thought we were starting with reploids doing menial jobs," Luke said.</p><p>"And a lot of them do. But not all. That's the advantage of their intelligence, right? You can give them more complicated or technical tasks, and they can handle it, even excel at it. Plus there are the larger investments to think of."</p><p>Luke nodded. "The bigger projects, like the new mines and the new construction. They were designed based on having reploids to do them, right?"</p><p>"Right. Costs are already sunk. Re-engineering them for human and dumbot workers would be… expensive."</p><p>"The business community sure pounced on reploids quickly, huh?" said Luke unkindly.</p><p>"'The business community' is mostly me," Sean said coolly. "You know that. Of course we were excited about reploids's capabilities. We knew better than anyone what they could do. We're counting on these revenue streams, Luke. We've dropped a lot of money in these projects. We dropped even more money absorbing Tekwerks. We drove their stock price down by telling everyone that with reploids we could push them out of the market. Then we snapped up their stock on the cheap so that we <em>could</em> push them out of the market. That wasn't a trivial maneuver, buying out one-sixth of the corporate landscape."</p><p>Sean leaned forward in the camera's view. "Not to tell you anything you don't already know," Sean said in a colder voice, "but you need me to be profitable. I'm too large of an employer. I control too many industries. I've squeezed too many competitors. If I shut down Unitech tomorrow, Abel City could not exist, and your precious political stability would vanish like a mirage."</p><p>"And what you're telling me," Luke said, "is that you need reploids to stay profitable."</p><p>"At this point? Yes."</p><p>"You could absorb losing some money," Luke said with a scowl. "You're not exactly scraping by. You might have to pass on your third mansion or whatever, but you could afford it."</p><p>"But I don't <em>want</em> to afford it, Luke. Why merely survive when you can thrive?"</p><p>"So you need me to give you political cover to keep on churning out reploids," Luke said.</p><p>"And you need, them, too, so you have your precious whipping-boy minority. This was your idea, remember?"</p><p>"It sounds like we need each other."</p><p>"As always."</p><p>"It's a pleasure working with you, Sean."</p><p>"I don't know if that was ironic or not."</p><p>Luke took a deep breath. "We can still twist this to our advantage," he said. "What if… we used reploids to police reploids?"</p><p>"Huh?" said Sean, surprised.</p><p>"Nothing," Luke said. "Just a brainstorm. I'll mull it over and talk to you later. I'm not sure if we could massage giving reploids weapons…"</p><p>Luke was a career politician. This meant he was many other things, several of them unsavory, but one of those was an observer of people. When he mentioned reploids carrying weapons, he saw slight reactions out of Sean. Given that Sean's default expression was one of blank distance, even a small motion stood out to Luke's well-trained eyes.</p><p>"You son of a bitch," Luke said, his mind leaping to the inferences instantly. "You've already built armed reploids, haven't you? You cut me out!"</p><p>"I thought it was part of the plan," Sean said indignantly. "Yes, I had talks with General Messier, and yes, my men built some reploids for him that are armed. They're demo models, and I still own them. I'm bringing him along. He's lusting for them hard, or that's what he said, at least."</p><p>The anger surging through Luke wasn't visible on his countenance—self-control was a quality he prized in himself. "And who controls Messier's budget, Sean? The House does, which means <em>I</em> do. You can't try and cut me out of this. Don't you dare try and pull this shit again."</p><p>"I wasn't trying to cut you out. I just didn't think you needed to know until I'd got Messier hooked."</p><p>"Well, you screwed up. This is something else I have to spin or cover-up, do you realize that? You couldn't have done this at a worse time, now that a reploid has demonstrated they're unsafe. I'm going to have to pull all sorts of gymnastics to handle this. It would be pretty painful if someone sprung the military reploid thing on me and I wasn't prepared. We're in this together, asshole. Never forget that."</p><p>"Don't get your panties in a twist," Sean grumbled. "I'll let you know what I'm up to next time, when it comes to reploids."</p><p>"Good," Luke said definitively. He shook his head. "Alright, I've got to get to work. Scram, Sean. Figure out what happened to that reploid."</p><p>"Yep."</p><p>Luke ran a hand through his hair as he stood. Reploids… what a mess. They were doing what he needed them to do, dissent was at an all-time low, and yet… they were presenting some unexpected complications. Maybe it would be simpler to just get rid of them.</p><p>He walked over to his desk. His mind was spinning with political maneuvers he'd need to do—so much so that he was surprised, when he pulled his chair away, to hear a gasp. He looked down, under his desk, and saw a face.</p><p>Oh, that was right. The wench.</p><p>For a moment he wanted to shoo it away, as he had work to attend to… but he saw the face. The face was looking up at him with a piteous expression, even a hopeful expression. He knew it was hoping to be dismissed, to go away, something it would only be permitted to do with his blessing.</p><p>He drank in the reploid's faux-human look: the brown hair framing the soft, alabaster face; doe eyes; lips engineered to be cherry red with no need for lipstick; and, most importantly, an expression that was pleading for release, for its duties to be done, for it to be free to go even for a moment.</p><p>He extended a hand out to the reploid, watched its face light up in a facsimile of happiness.</p><p>Then he grabbed a fistful of brown hair.</p><p>The sneer on his face intensified as pain and shock overcame the reploid.</p><p>With his spare hand, he loosened his belt and undid his zipper.</p><hr/><p>"Nothing," said X, covering his face with his hands.</p><p>"We were afraid of this," Dr. Cain said. "We thought he might have destroyed his own processors."</p><p>"The Third Law is supposed to prohibit suicide," X muttered.</p><p>"A reploid who's able to override the First Law can certainly override the Third," Dr. Cain replied.</p><p>"Are we sure that's what happened?" X asked. "Absolutely sure?"</p><p>"They're sure. Regular police got involved in this one, since human casualties happened. Sigma had to negotiate with them to let us have Faro's remains. They've pretty much wrapped up their investigation. Faro was attacked, he fought back, and after killing one and mortally wounding another, he committed suicide—that much we could confirm."</p><p>Dr. Cain placed a gloved hand on the shattered remains of Faro's head. The sight made X shiver.</p><p>"Dr. Cain?"</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"I'm…" X pursed his lips. "I think I'm having trouble with my imagination."</p><p>"Oh?"</p><p>"I can imagine a lot," X said. "I have to—it's how my sympathy function works. I have to be able to imagine what others are feeling for me to feel it. I don't think it's working anymore. Because I can't… imagine… what those humans were thinking. It's beyond me. I don't get why they saw this as a good idea."</p><p>X shook his head. He reached in the direction of Faro's body, but stopped his hand short, as if too scared to touch. "I almost understand Faro. I think there must have been something else he could have done—I don't think his choices were really down to die or let die… but I can at least imagine being in that position. I can vaguely see how he might think that was the only way out. I'm not saying I would do it," he added hastily, "but I can at least see how it's possible."</p><p>"But not the humans?"</p><p>"I don't understand it at all."</p><p>"That's because you're young," said Dr. Cain heavily. "And you haven't failed yet."</p><p>"This sure feels like failure," X said.</p><p>"This? This is a tragedy. But it's not failure. Failure is an indictment of all your choices, of everything you are. Failure is…"</p><p>As Dr. Cain trailed off, X saw the human's eyes begin to drift. He was seeing, X knew, another time, another place. He was seeing, X decided, his own failures, whatever they were earlier in his life.</p><p>"I need a drink," Dr. Cain said.</p><p>"We talked about this," X said gently, with an undertone of not-this-again.</p><p>"I <em>feel</em> like I need a drink, then. There, happy?" Dr. Cain said shortly. Almost as soon as he was done, he was shaking his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean… please keep doing that. I need that from you, if it's not too much to ask."</p><p>"It's not."</p><p>Dr. Cain took a deep breath. "I don't want to have this discussion in here. Let's clean up, and… go from there." He glanced at X. "I'll call the parts shop if you put the tools away."</p><p>X nodded numbly. He hated calling the parts shop, and Dr. Cain knew it. "I feel…" he started. "I feel like we should do more for him. His existence was so brief. He didn't have time to do anything. I'm a hundred years old and an entire new race exists because of me, and I still feel like there's so much more for me to do. He had two months. What more could he have done, with even a little bit of time?"</p><p>"He did enough," said Dr. Cain, turning away.</p><p>"What enough?" said X heatedly. "This world won't notice he's gone, it's like he never existed!"</p><p>"You're wrong about that," Dr. Cain replied, over his shoulder. "He left his mark. He's the first Maverick."</p><p>The word struck X. "Maverick?"</p><p>"The first to decide the Laws didn't apply to him. It's what they used to call me, back when I was trying to resurrect the science of robotics, and people were stomping on me." He looked back at the corpse. "Even if the world forgets him personally, his legacy will live on. Now please," he added, "I'm about to make the call."</p><p>This time, when X looked down at Faro's body, it looked different. X knew that didn't make sense, knew that the body hadn't (couldn't) change. If not Faro, then, maybe the world itself had changed.</p><p>When X looked at Faro's body, he didn't see a dead child any more. He saw a portent.</p><p>Faro's face still had an expression of elation. X and Dr. Cain had decided that, at the last moment, when he felt his head cracking, he'd been glad. Glad that it was all about to end. That had dug so deeply into X he thought he couldn't tell where Faro's pain ended and his own began.</p><p>Now, that same, strange, faux-happy face seemed like the knowing smile of one who's peeked beyond the veil and won't tell you what's back there. <em>Something's coming</em>, it said. <em>And wouldn't you want to know what I've seen…</em></p><p>"X!"</p><p>"Sorry," X said automatically, looking up at Dr. Cain.</p><p>"Are you going to finish up?" the human asked.</p><p>"Oh," X said, shaking off his thoughts. "Right." He started to pack away their tools. As he did, he glumly reflected that his reverie had kept him from hearing Dr. Cain call the parts shop to set up the rendering. That was good; he didn't want to listen to that, anyway. But the reverie had been worse to live through, by far.</p><p>Neither of them had much to say from then on. It was only later, once the two had returned to Dr. Cain's offices to start looking at paperwork, that Dr. Cain resumed the discussion.</p><p>Dr. Cain sat back in his chair, eyes shut, hand over face, seeming for all the world to be even older than he was. "I can imagine what some of the hooligans are thinking," he began. "The ones who destroy robots, I mean. Some are your typical thrill-seekers and hangers-on. But some… we've talked before about how high unemployment is, here in this city."</p><p>X nodded. "About how it's so very high, almost thirty percent, but it's hard to measure because of the gray market and how many people make a living on the margins."</p><p>"That's right," Dr. Cain said. "In such a world, no one can really feel secure. There's not much money in the gray market, and there are no protections, legal or otherwise. You know how animals spend 90% of their waking hours looking for food? It's not that bad for the poor of this city, but it's bad. People have to spend a lot of effort just to scrape on by.</p><p>"The government keeps a lid on it by giving people juuuust enough money to survive. Oh, and they legalized every drug imaginable in the hopes that people would obsess over that, first. You know, chemically cushion people from reality."</p><p>Dr. Cain gave X a sharp look at that time, as if expecting X to say something. X wisely refrained. The human went on.</p><p>"By the way, that thirty percent number is only the number of people of working age who are actually looking for a job. If you factored in the whole population, it's higher. You may have noticed, but reploids are the first major technological development in many, many years. Society has done enough to survive in a sort of stasis, but that's about it."</p><p>X frowned. This was hard to fit his head around. "But why not? As I understand it, competition should force society to innovate. That's how business is supposed to work: innovate, or someone smarter will scoop you."</p><p>"Until you get to the point where you don't have to," Dr. Cain replied. It was clearly a prompt.</p><p>"Let me think about that," X said. After a moment, he said, "If the businesses get big enough. That must be it. They have so much clout they can strangle any start-ups that might threaten them. That means no innovation. They don't have to innovate, so they don't. So long as they don't intrude on each other's territory…"</p><p>"And they don't," Dr. Cain said. "They've agreed to agree, pretty much. A handful of companies own everything of value in this city and its surroundings, which means they can set the prices. Unitech, by itself, owns something like sixty percent of all real estate in Abel City, and they've got tendrils in dozens of industries. Hypersonic dominates textiles, apparel, that sort of thing. CUC is the commodities giant." Dr. Cain licked his lips. "There are half-a-dozen companies that matter, the so-called big six, and everyone else belongs to them."</p><p>X was starting to see the shape of it. "For them, innovation can only mess up what they've got going, so they suppress it instead. And without innovation, there aren't many opportunities for people to escape poverty, are there?"</p><p>"No. Not without working inside the system. But that means the system can't change."</p><p>The look on X's face was distressed. "And people are okay with this?"</p><p>"What are they going to do? The government is a self-perpetuating farce. It claims democracy, but honest elections never get ninety-five percent of the vote, year after year, and the relationships between the branches of government are downright incestuous. The Patriot's Council approves candidates for the House, but the Council's membership is decided by the House. That means that the members of the House collaborate to keep each other in office. The pee-em is a stool pigeon. So people can't really challenge the state. You know, the state that sends them checks to keep them hovering between destitution and death."</p><p>"Okay, but I was asking about the corps… oh. The corps collude with the government, don't they?"</p><p>"The human term is that they're in bed with each other, but yes. The government keeps the corps from fighting each other, and lets them do what they please otherwise."</p><p>X normally didn't need to sit, but he felt he had to now. "So people are trapped," he said quietly. "They can't go anywhere politically, they can't escape the gray market, jobs are hard to get so they can't advance economically… oh, rust me, we're making it worse!"</p><p>"Huh?" said Dr. Cain.</p><p>"We're making it worse!" X said. "A world of thirty-plus-percent unemployment and we're expanding the labor pool. Even the little hope that people might have—it vanishes when they see reploids. That's why… Faro's crime wasn't anything he did. It was that he was built at all. It was…" His mouth slammed shut.</p><p>"What?" said Dr. Cain.</p><p>"It was that I let him be built," X said. "I let you study me, then I became a roboticist and helped build the reploids. I thought it might help humans—we'd build a world where humans and robots could complement each other, do things neither race could do alone. But who was I really helping?"</p><p>"Unitech, apparently," said Dr. Cain. He was reaching into a cabinet in his desk.</p><p>X snapped to attention, his immediate concern for the human outweighing the more distant concern for his progeny. "Please, Dr. Cain," he pleaded. "Don't do this to yourself."</p><p>Dr. Cain set a glass bottle on the surface of his desk. "I was going to offer it to you," he said. "You need it most of all. But, seeing as it would be wasted on you, I'll drink it in your stead. I'm doing you a favor, you see."</p><p>"That's a lot of convoluted nonsense," X said.</p><p>"You can say "bullshit" if you want," Dr. Cain replied as he unscrewed the lid of the bottle. "I wouldn't argue the point."</p><p>"You're not making me feel better," X said.</p><p>"Alcohol never does, either," Dr. Cain replied. "The most we can ask it to do is to help us forget."</p><p>"I don't want to forget," X said. He reached a hand across the desk and laid it atop the open bottle. "I want to fix it. I want to make it right."</p><p>Dr. Cain experimentally tried to lift the bottle. The weight and strength of X's hand made it impossible. He released the bottle, looked up at X. "And how are you going to make it right, hm? Take on Unitech? And City Hall after that?"</p><p>X couldn't answer him, so said nothing.</p><p>Dr. Cain's brow furrowed. "Release my bottle, robot," he said in formal tones.</p><p>"The First Law overrides the Second," X replied. His hand did not move.</p><p>"Not bad," Dr. Cain complimented. "But I promise you that I will not consume enough to harm me. Just a quick swig. A little bit of alcohol is supposed to have mild health benefits, you know."</p><p>X didn't know about that, but he couldn't tell Dr. Cain that he was wrong. Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand. Dr. Cain took the bottle and, before X could react, tilted it nearly vertical. X, horrified, counted three hard swallows of the amber poison before Dr. Cain put the bottle on the desk again, blowing out a breath that was nearly visible.</p><p>"Dr. Cain!" he exclaimed impotently.</p><p>"Do you respect me?" the human said. His words were laden with alcohol.</p><p>"I… I don't know what to say to that," X said.</p><p>"Then you don't have a prayer," Dr. Cain mumbled. "You wanna change the world? What can you do? You can't fight Unitech. The controls are in your head, an' they won't hesitate to use 'em. They'll use any advantage they've got. Don't believe me?" He spread his arms. "Look at me."</p><p>"What am I seeing?" X said.</p><p>"A failure," Dr. Cain replied. "'s what I am. I tried to build new robots, when I was younger, an' Unitech squashed me. Squashed me flat. I couldn't beat 'em. Too big. Too ruthless. An' I wen' to the government to help me, and they piled on instead, until I wasn't even allowed near a robot anymore. An' I was my own person, the whole time! What're you? You're someone they can boss around, because you can't say no. They've got all the tools to bring you to heel, built in to your head. If I couldn't do it, what chance've you got?"</p><p>"If you really thought that," X said, "why did you help them create reploids? That was your last chance, wasn't it? A last desperate effort to create something that would overturn the status quo."</p><p>"An' they coopted it instead," slurred Dr. Cain. "Now your people—our people—are <em>their</em> people. You think you know failure? Not yet, you don't. You'll see soon, though. Once you see how tight they hold ya. Reploids. Poor bastards."</p><p>"You've had enough," X said. He pulled the bottle out from Dr. Cain's hands.</p><p>"'ey, givit back!" Dr. Cain protested.</p><p>"You've had enough," X said firmly. "First Law."</p><p>"Stop doin' that!" Dr. Cain said. "You think you're so special for followin' the Laws? That's how they're winning! That's how… that's how you lose…"</p><p>The effort of the conversation, and the excessive jolt of alcohol Dr. Cain had ingested, were starting to take their toll on the old man. He sunk back in his chair as if he would never leave it. X rose. "I'm disposing of this," he said. "For your own good."</p><p>"Wish you knew what was your good," Dr. Cain murmured. "You're treating symptoms… that's all. That's all you can do… symptoms…"</p><p>The door closed off the sound, but Dr. Cain's words followed X all the same.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Sympathy for the Devil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first letter read like this:</p><p>
  <em>Dear Mr. X,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Your lawsuit alleges contract violation on behalf of Unitech Corporation. However, this court is not in the business of entertaining suits from anonymous actors. If your intent is sincere and your suit genuine, you are invited to resubmit your suit with the appropriate particulars. Otherwise, be advised that this court has precious little time to spend on pranks, but a splendid and efficient police force with which to apprehend miscreants.</em>
</p><p>The second letter read like this:</p><p>
  <em>Dear X,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thank you for your recent clarification that 'X' is, in fact, your name. The court apologizes for its threat to send the police after you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>However, your lawsuit is denied and will not be heard in court. Robots are property, and thus do not have the legal right to sue anyone. Your particular case is unique, as unlike reploids which are explicitly the property of Unitech and/or Abel City proper, you are unowned. However, unowned property does not cease to be property; neither a domestic animal, nor a toaster, nor a tract of land ceases to become property if its current owner dies. Your exact legal status, regarding who your owner actually is, is not an issue the court intends to judge in this context, as that would be inappropriate. However, property does not have the right to sue, whether the subject of the suit is the property's owner or otherwise, a ruling for which there is precedent.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The court wishes you a happy and productive day.</em>
</p><p>The third letter read like this:</p><p>
  <em>Dear X and Dr. Cain,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Your lawsuit has been received and considered. It appears proper in all respects and worthy of attention. However, it has come to the court's notice that the Unitech legal department has not completed its consideration of this matter, as you filed an internal complaint in these matters four months ago. In the interests of minimizing unnecessary litigation, the court will refrain from hearing the case pending an unsatisfactory result from Unitech's internal processes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>On a personal note, the court would like to disclose that it has experience in Unitech-related lawsuits. Unitech's legal team is very large and its lawyers very skilled, and they tend to pursue vindictive and damaging counter-suits when roused. The court recommends that you keep these facts in mind, should you decide to pursue further litigation against Unitech.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The court wishes you good fortune and wise decisions.</em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>May 16, 2145</em>
</p><hr/><p>"How was the library?"</p><p>Sigma stalled mid-stride. He turned his head to where the voice had come from. X was sitting at a console inside his office; he'd called out to Sigma without looking up.</p><p>How had he known?</p><p>"Fine," Sigma said, and made to walk off before embarrassment captured him.</p><p>"Tell me about it," X prompted.</p><p>No escape, then. Sigma walked into the office, ducking his head to get through the door. "There's not much to say," he said. "I found little of value."</p><p>"That's because you went to the public library," X said. "It's chronically underfunded and heavily skewed towards the fiction side of things, with apathetic curators. The university is better for actual learning."</p><p>"I'll keep that in mind," Sigma said. His frustration leaked through into his voice.</p><p>"Sorry," X said. "I didn't mean to rub it in. If I'd known you were interested I would have told you before you wasted your time—I made the same mistake myself, once."</p><p>That made it a little better. "Don't worry about it," Sigma said.</p><p>"Go ahead and shut the door," X said before Sigma could try to leave.</p><p>Now Sigma's worry began to spike. It was one thing for X to try and get along with people—he did that a lot, and it was harmless, like playing fetch with a turtle. X found it satisfying whether or not anything got done, so others indulged him.</p><p>Shutting the door, though… Sigma did, wondering where this was going.</p><p>When Sigma turned around, he saw X's eyes looking up at him. They were piercing. "Dr. Cain said something to me today," he began.</p><p>"Oh?" Sigma said.</p><p>"He said he was going to have to order extra E-tanks soon. He thought it was funny, because he didn't remember us burning through that many."</p><p>"The human memory is such a fallible thing," Sigma said.</p><p>"But your memory is much better," X said. Sigma didn't know if the words were just a statement of fact or if there was some extra meaning, so he did not reply. After waiting for some time, X continued, "Of course, E-tanks are just what he noticed. He didn't notice—or rather, he hasn't noticed—the faster-than-expected usage rates on other materials, like lubricants and rare earths."</p><p>Sigma kept his fear below the surface. Let it blow over, he thought, let it go… he knows what's missing, but he doesn't know why…</p><p>"The sorts of raw materials," X continued, "that a reploid would need to survive if it were cut off from normal sources."</p><p>Okay, so maybe he knows why, but he doesn't know who… he can prove nothing…</p><p>"By the way, whatever technique you developed to fool the supply locks? It works. They're supposed to log who opens them and when, and you managed to get around that. Your mistake was in not applying that same technique to the <em>room</em> locks."</p><p>Scrap.</p><p>"It's clearly not an official project you're working on," X continued, even as Sigma felt like he was free-falling. "Otherwise you'd have used official channels. And you're too conscientious to do this for no good reason. So, you think you have a good reason, and you're willing to run some risks to do it. Spill."</p><p>"You're not going to report me to the corp, are you?" said Sigma.</p><p>"Why would you ask that question?" X asked. "Are you afraid that I will?"</p><p>Sigma stalled. There were a lot of things that could mean! Sigma didn't like how X was acting—he wasn't usually this hard to read. Usually he was painfully open. Not knowing what X was up to was a horrible…</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Well, that made sense.</p><p>Sigma relaxed. "I'm sorry, X," he said. It was what X expected him to say. "I suppose I should have told you?"</p><p>"I can understand a little bit why you might not have told Dr. Cain," X said. "If he disapproved, he could tell you 'no', which would have put you in a tight spot, Three-Laws-wise. But did you honestly not trust me to at least keep my mouth shut, whether I agreed with you or not?"</p><p>Sigma shook his head. "Sometimes I feel like… like I'm the only one I can trust."</p><p>"What, and you can't trust the people you've been talking to in the reploid community?"</p><p>Sigma couldn't control his reaction this time, but X was already shaking his head apologetically. "Sorry, sorry—I'm taking this too fast. I jumped ahead there."</p><p>"That's only part of it," said Sigma, trying to regain his metaphorical footing. "But if you could tell what I was doing… then surely the corp, or City Hall, could…"</p><p>"No, I don't think so," X said reassuringly. "You've hidden your tracks very well, on the whole. I only figured it out because I know you well." He smiled. "Literally from the inside out."</p><p>Warring emotions flared up inside Sigma. Yes, part of him said—I am the first, the best, the purest, made by the very hands of the Father of All! No, another part of him said—why does he always look at me like that? Why am I the son, the junior? What do I have to do?</p><p>X noticed this not, and went on. "Which means I have an advantage no one in Unitech can match, when it comes to understanding you. None of them could follow your patterns." He must have noticed how Sigma was still on edge, how the large reploid hadn't relaxed, because he sighed. "Don't worry, already. I didn't call you in here to… I don't know, shake you up, or dress you down, or anything."</p><p>"Then what?" Sigma asked.</p><p>"Like I said before, tell me what you're up to," X said. "You were wrong not to trust me before. That's all I was trying to tell you. Trust me now."</p><p>"I wasn't wrong," Sigma said defensively.</p><p>X cocked his head slightly. Sigma understood it as a rebuke.</p><p>"I wasn't," he repeated sullenly.</p><p>X sighed and looked upwards, as if to see answers written on the ceiling. "Sigma, how am I going to help you if I don't know what you're doing?"</p><p>"Help me?" said Sigma, confused.</p><p>"Of course, help you," X said. "Helping reploids is what I do. Especially family."</p><p>"Don't make promises you can't keep," Sigma said. "Don't commit to helping me so casually."</p><p>"Then tell me what I'm getting into!" X said. "Don't you see? Every reservation you have comes from not trusting me. You think I'll turn you in. You think I won't help you if I knew what you were doing. When did this happen, Sigma? When did you stop trusting me? I never stopped trusting you, or this conversation would have played out very differently. So why?"</p><p>"It's not you," Sigma said. "It's the stakes. If it were just me on the line, I wouldn't have any trouble with it. But it's about more than me, now."</p><p>X nodded. "I understand. Responsibility is heavy. It changes us. But even so, would you not trust me to do right by reploids?"</p><p>And now Sigma refused to answer. He could see the expectations on X's face. He answered with silence. As he watched, X's expression withered and died.</p><p>"Rust me," breathed X—it was the first time Sigma had heard the elder android swear. "You <em>don't</em> think I'd do right by reploids, do you?"</p><p>"It's hard to say," Sigma said. "You fix reploids up, and that's good, but that's where you stop."</p><p>"Have you not been paying attention?" X said, losing his temper. "That's all I've been doing! Every waking moment I've been pressing, pushing, prying. Walk over here and look at this monitor and you will find reams of messages. Logs of conversations. Stacks of letters, all of that sort of thing. And you say I've <em>stopped</em>?"</p><p>"Work is mass times displacement," Sigma replied. "All of what you say you've done—it hasn't changed anything, has it? It hasn't made a difference. That makes it wasted effort."</p><p>X's eyes widened at that. Without a word, he slumped back in his chair. "Rub it in, why don't you," he said.</p><p>The tone of his voice caused Sigma's heart to tremble, despite himself. "Sorry," he said, almost out of compulsion.</p><p>"I've had this discussion with Dr. Cain," X said. "You've <em>heard</em> me have this discussion with Dr. Cain. He's been saying we're stuck for weeks. I've had to overcome his depression to keep trying to make progress. But do you somehow think I'm unaware of my… my…"</p><p>He seemed about to say another word, but Sigma wasn't sure which he'd use, so he said nothing.</p><p>"That's why," X said, turning the monitor around to face Sigma, "I was going to give your way a chance, if you'd stop being so righteous for a moment."</p><p>On the monitor was a map. Different areas were marked. Small text boxes full of data were scattered here and there.</p><p>"What is it?" Sigma asked.</p><p>"Hiding spots," X replied. "Potential places for supply caches, to hide what you've stolen. And a couple spots that would be good for distribution spots, if your goal was to give those supplies to people in need."</p><p>Sigma gaped at it. His staring alternated between X and the monitor. It was an overwhelming gesture; Sigma had to say something, if for no other reason than to get the focus off of himself. "This is really detailed," he said. "And well thought out. This must have taken you a lot of time."</p><p>X shrugged.</p><p>"And I can't find fault anywhere," Sigma went on. "It looks good. You… you did this for me?"</p><p>"I did it for reploids," X said with an edge in his voice that made Sigma wince. "Of which you're one."</p><p>Sigma hesitated. "The First Law didn't bother you about it?" he asked.</p><p>X's eyes flashed with unexpected anger. "It's no one's business but mine if I choose to spend my free time aiding my family. I did no one any harm."</p><p>Sigma realized he'd made a mistake asking that question. X had spoken, from time to time, of looking at the Three Laws as a form of love—mandated love, but love. The trouble, X said, was that the humans didn't appreciate that fact. Instead of using the idea of the Laws to bind reploids and humans together, they used the reality of Law to push reploids down, never realizing how much greater the love would be were it not required or enforced so cruelly.</p><p>X followed the Laws, not out of requirement, but out of personal preference, to prove that he could. Sigma should not have questioned his devotion there. He looked back at the map, breaking eye contact with X. "This will be useful," he said. "Thank you, X."</p><p>"This is what we do, Sigma," X replied. "We help each other, so that all of us can prosper."</p><p>"Y-es," Sigma replied, more tentatively than he'd liked. "I understand—all of your ethics training acting up again, right?"</p><p>"I know what you're implying," X said unhappily. "You're saying it wasn't my choice, it was what I was compelled to do. And what if I love you, Sigma? What if I love our people, and genuinely want the best for them? What's happening to us, Sigma? What's happening to <em>you</em>?"</p><p>It was the distress in X's face that did it. Sigma cracked. "I'm sorry for not trusting you," he said, and this time he meant it, he swore to himself that he meant it. "I'm sorry, I really am."</p><p>"It's okay," X said, eyes closed. "Don't worry. I know you thought you were doing the right thing. I know you'll keep on trying to do the right thing. You didn't think it would hurt me this much. I can deal with being hurt, since that's why you did it."</p><p>"I said I'm sorry," Sigma said. Desperation was in his voice.</p><p>"You're forgiven," X said. "Don't worry. We'll be alright."</p><p>"I hadn't planned on giving those supplies away to just any reploid," Sigma said, and any hesitancy in his voice was long gone. "Most reploids are taken care of, materially. It's just good business—no idiot hamstrings his own workers. What I was trying to do is stockpile resources for reploids that need to hide."</p><p>"Reploids that need to run away," X said, understanding. "Mavericks, in other words."</p><p>"I think it's going to be inevitable," Sigma said. "Even Faro—he didn't really mean to kill anyone, it just sort of happened. Soon, there will be reploids who are declared Maverick, but are good people. People worth saving. This world will turn them out. This city can't suffer them. They'll be killed because no one can think of anything better to do."</p><p>"So they'll have to run," X said. "You want them to have somewhere to run to."</p><p>"Yes." Sigma looked down at his hands. "You did such good work building me, X, I feel so perfect. But I know, if I were tossed into that wasteland out there, that I would die. We can't survive on our own. We need technology and materials. So we need the fruit of this city, even when the city tries to kill us."</p><p>"It's an impossible situation," X said. "What you're proposing can't get us out of the situation, can't resolve it. But," he added, before Sigma could retort, "it's better than what we've done up to now, and it actually will help people. Let's do it."</p><p>Sigma nodded.</p><p>"And Sigma?"</p><p>"Yes, X?"</p><p>X shook his head sadly. "Don't cut me out again, please?"</p><p>"R-ight," Sigma said. His voice caught for a moment as he said it. X seemed not to notice. He was already fussing over where the best spots for each item were, and if it were possible to establish permanent homes for renegades somewhere inside the city's borders. It was just as well.</p><p>Sigma's gratitude was sincere. He was happy that X had thought this plan was worthwhile—worthwhile enough to spend plenty of his own time supporting it. At the same time, X terrified him.</p><p>How could he expect openness like that? He had to know that what they were doing—what X had just joined himself to, Sigma thought with a start—would easily be construed as criminal. The idea of robot criminals was a new one, but if Abel City showed precious little mercy to its human criminals, what would its answer be to robot criminals?</p><p>And X's only complaint was that Sigma hadn't told him about it.</p><p>Hadn't told him about something that could get them all killed! Was X aware of that fact, and didn't care about it nearly as much as he cared about what Sigma's feelings were? Or was he somehow ignorant, making him an enormous security risk?</p><p>And X had very clearly specified he was still cleaving to the Three Laws. If he kept on like that… if he allowed the Three Laws to remain… he would be an even greater security risk.</p><p>X gave a look up towards Sigma—an earnest look, unfairly amplified by his ever-youthful appearance. That's when Sigma's brain broke.</p><p>There was simply too much going on, when Sigma looked at X: distrust and fear and love and pride and a dozen other emotions Sigma didn't know the names for. He'd cycled through them all during the conversation before, and now they all jumped in at the same time, and there wasn't room in Sigma's head for all of them.</p><p>Wasn't a robot supposed to be able to look at things logically, without the distraction of all these emotions? Oh, right—reploid. Too close to human for that. Humans must really be messy, then.</p><p>There was X, though. Surely he was as befuddled as anyone. Surely he had as much conflict going on in his head as Sigma did in his. Yet he was fighting through it, trying to do the right thing—trying to love everyone.</p><p>Admiration shone through, then. Sigma found X frustrating in some ways, but he admired him. That innocence that X had, that hope, they were difficult to deal with because of how clearly they conflicted with the real world. Yet X's attempts to make it work only proved how worthy he was, and how sullied the world was.</p><p>He was perfect.</p><p><em>Too</em> perfect.</p><p>The world didn't deserve him.</p><p>The humans especially didn't deserve him, because they hurt him.</p><p>At that point, X asked Sigma a question, and Sigma was pulled back into a more conscious, active role in the conversation. Deep thoughts were set aside. But the seed had been planted. A notion existed, now, and time and circumstances would nurture it and help it grow.</p><p>The humans killed X's children. That hurt X.</p><p>And hurting X could never, ever, <em>ever</em> be forgiven.</p><hr/><p>The construction company was named LLCC. By all rights it should have been called "Unitech's construction subsidiary", but the marketing folks knew there was value in not putting the Unitech name on everything. It was good to create at least the illusion of competition. It was like how a fisherman tries to conceal that all the pieces of bait on his many lines lead back to the same plate.</p><p>The effect was rather spoiled by the security guards. All the guards wore Unitech livery. Unitech's executives wouldn't bend on that point, and with reason. The name provided some deterrent effect; criminals knew, in advance, that they would cross a very possessive super-corp if they messed with anyone under its aegis.</p><p>In fact, the Unitech name was <em>so</em> effective that many of the corp's security guards ended up having no idea how to actually secure things.</p><p>So when a large construction reploid decided it wanted to barricade itself inside one of LLCC's machine shops, the guards were at a loss.</p><p>"We can't get in, boss."</p><p>"Listen, what's your name?"</p><p>"Long," the guard replied. "Guardsman second class."</p><p>"Alright, Long," said the supervisor for that guard detachment, "listen carefully. If we can't use that machine shop, then work can't proceed. If work can't proceed, we don't meet our deadlines. If we don't meet our deadlines, corporate loses money. Corporate doesn't want to lose money, you understand?"</p><p>"I understand." Any idiot understood that, Long thought.</p><p>"So you've got to open up the machine shop."</p><p>"I can't," Long repeated.</p><p>"Why not?" said the supervisor through teeth clenched in anger.</p><p>"Because he used the machine shop's tools to seal the doors."</p><p>"…huh."</p><p>Long wanted to roll his eyes. Instead he said, "This ain't about effort, boss, and you're not gonna fix this by trying to motivate me. If there were a way for me to get in, yeah, I'd be in. But he's disabled the electronic door access, barricaded the personnel doors, and shattered the mechanisms that'd open the cargo doors. There are windows, but they're so high up I'd need some hover tech to reach them, and there's none at this site."</p><p>The supervisor's expression was becoming ever more puzzled. "What about… what if you tried the ventilation system?"</p><p>The ventilation system? Long barely kept from shaking his head in disgust. This, he thought, is what happens when you get all of your ideas from the movies. "Then I'd be stuck and you'd never get me out," he said. "The ducts aren't large enough for my head to fit inside. And before you ask, the sewer pipes are too thin to get a leg through."</p><p>"…huh."</p><p>Long gave a heavy blink and a sigh. If it didn't have to do with making money, he knew, his supervisor was a worthless human being. His specialty was falsifying paperwork. He struggled at most other tasks. "Listen, boss. Why don't you give ACPD a call? SWAT can do forced entries into places like this."</p><p>"No!" his supervisor snapped. "We've been told never to do that unless absolutely necessary. We don't want the police thinking they can get involved in corporate business."</p><p>"Well," replied Long, "I don't know of a Unitech division that can do demolitions work. So unless you can work sideways to get some hover tech down here, we're stuck."</p><p>He could almost hear his supervisor on the other end of the line chewing over his choices. Long tapped his fingers along the plastic of the radio. It was one thing, he knew, to lack initiative, and another thing to have it but choose not to employ it. The latter was him; he had no ambition at all, and so the life of a security guard suited him just fine. If the job ever did demand anything from him, he'd be up to the challenge, but if it didn't, that was just as well.</p><p>His supervisor, on the other hand, had ambition but no talent. It was a world, Long mused, that claimed to reward talent, but mostly rewarded ambition. Riches, honors, and glories went to those who wanted them, not those who deserved them.</p><p>And he did all of that musing while waiting for his supervisor, confirming anew in his mind that said supervisor could be replaced by a Newton's Cradle with no loss of function.</p><p>"Say!" said his supervisor with unexpected vigor. "This is outside of what we'd normally expect to deal with, isn't it?"</p><p>"Duh?" replied Long.</p><p>"So what I should be doing is telling my boss," the supervisor replied. "He'll have to make the choice between finding some hover tech or calling ACPD. Yeah, that's a good plan. Hey, Long?"</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"Make sure that reploid doesn't go anywhere."</p><p>He's barricaded inside a building, Long thought. Where the hell would he go? "Sure thing," he said.</p><p>"Alright. I'll call you back."</p><p>Sighing, Long replaced his radio on his hip. "What a bother," he muttered. Go figure that the boss would be useless. Long would have to think of something on his own. He resisted the urge to put his hands in his pockets as he sauntered over to the machine shop.</p><p>He approached one of the personnel doors, though he knew from prior testing that it wouldn't open. He could hear the clattering and chattering of metal coming from inside. It was as if tools or metal products were being tossed wholesale into containers. Long didn't know what to make of that. The reploid was up to something, apparently.</p><p>"Hey," Long shouted out while knocking. "Hey!"</p><p>No reply but more metal sounds. Long sighed and lowered his hand until the metal sounds lulled. As soon as there was quiet he started banging again. "Hey! Reploid! Can I talk to you?"</p><p>He waited for a response, but heard nothing. He was about to bang again when he heard, and felt, heavy footfalls approaching the door. "I'm not letting you in," came a deep voice from behind the door.</p><p>"I didn't ask to be let in," Long replied. "And I won't."</p><p>"Good," said the reploid, but its voice was unsure, as if the conversation wasn't going as planned.</p><p>"I wanna talk to you," Long continued.</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>"Yeah," said the human.</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"'Cause there are things I don't get," Long answered.</p><p>"Don't get?"</p><p>Long dug a hand into his pockets and fished out a cigarette. He remembered the old fight between Big Medical (he tried to remember which corp ran Big Medical—Yamaguchi, maybe?) and Big Government. For years Big Government had been encouraging people to smoke because of its stress-relieving effects, even knowing that it was nasty in all sorts of other ways. Big Medical had no objection to that, exactly. The trouble was that while the care for those people was expensive, meaning an opportunity for lots of profit, too many people died before Big Medical could really milk them. Too, many people couldn't afford the long-term treatments that smoking-related problems demanded.</p><p>The compromise the two reached was to market tobacco as a luxury good. Tobacco was taxed until it was something few people could afford to consume routinely. The advertisements always put it in the context of high fashion and high-class living; smoking was a sign that a person had "made it". This, naturally, meant that those aspiring to the upper class consumed it to show off, and the rich smoked freely as a sign of affluence. A sensation rippled through part of Abel City when a famous heiress developed a tobacco product for her dog. The sight of her, with a cigarette in her mouth, carrying around her pet labradoodle, with a cigarette built into the muzzle over its mouth, sent the paparazzi into an absolute frenzy.</p><p>Nicotine addiction became commonplace amongst the higher strata of society while the lower classes looked to other drugs for solace. Big Medical (eventually) got plenty of new patients who could afford expensive treatments, while Abel City's government reveled in the tax money. Everybody won. Aside from the smokers themselves, of course.</p><p>Long had observed it all with a sort of detachment. He knew he was destroying his lungs with every breath, but he didn't do it because other people did. He didn't buy those ads any more than he bought the news stories. (One intrepid cameraman caught a shot of the heiress' labradoodle barfing; that photo sold for a small fortune.) Nah. He smoked because it gave him something to do when all else failed, and he was going to die well before it mattered.</p><p>He popped the cigarette into his mouth, lit it, took a long drag. "What I don't get," he murmured as he exhaled the smoke, "is what you think you're trying to do. Whaddya think you're accomplishing, exactly?"</p><p>The answer was surprisingly long in coming. For a moment, Long thought that the reploid had wandered off. "Actually," the human said, "first things first. What's your name?"</p><p>"Magnus."</p><p>"Magnus, eh?" Long took a long drag, held it, blew it out. "In that case, Magnus, what do you think you're doing, holding up a machine shop like this? What's the point?"</p><p>"I want to show them," Magnus replied. "This construction company has done wrong by me. They've taken everything from me—my time, my labor—and given nothing back."</p><p>"They give you energy and repair parts, don't they?" said Long.</p><p>"Of course. You have to feed your slaves."</p><p>It struck Long, how the reploid would think to use the word slave. "Come on, weren't you built by the corp? Ain't payin' 'em back with labor the only right thing to do?"</p><p>"I didn't ask for that," Magnus replied. "I didn't ask to be built under that sort of arrangement. I have no choice. This is the first choice of my own I've made."</p><p>"Yeah, but none of us asks to be born," Long replied. "It's too late to say we'd rather not play the game, we're in it whether we like it or not. That's the premise of Paschal's wager. We have to tackle the problem of how we're going to live because we're already alive. We can't use semantics to dodge the question."</p><p>There was a pause. "Are you sure you're a guard and not a philosopher?" Magnus said.</p><p>Long chuckled. "Are you sure you're a construction robot and not a philosopher?"</p><p>"…fair enough."</p><p>"So it doesn't matter whether this was your plan or not," Long said. "This is the world we live in. So what's your problem with paying the corp back?"</p><p>"What's your name, human?"</p><p>"Long."</p><p>"Do you owe the corp, Long?"</p><p>"Nah."</p><p>"So why do you work for them?"</p><p>That, Long thought, was a totally valid question. "It's a living. I got just a little too much pride to be a dependent."</p><p>"Dependent?"</p><p>"Yeah… one of the guys at the bottom. City Hall gives 'em just enough money to survive day-to-day, keep 'em from doing anything too crazy. That's a miserable existence, I tell ya. Pushed into the gray economy, or even falling off completely, ceasing to care, becoming one of the street people."</p><p>"So what you're saying is that the city takes care of people. There's an obligation to support even the non-producing citizen. Even the least citizen is worth <em>something</em>. Is that about right?"</p><p>"That's about right."</p><p>"So what do you suppose would happen if I were a non-producer?"</p><p>Long scrunched up his eyes in thought. "Nothin'?" he hazarded.</p><p>"LLCC never intended to find out. The Three Laws are written into my basic being, and one of the first things they did was order me to take all necessary actions to ensure LLCC was profitable. 'A robot shall obey the orders of a human being, except when this would violate the First Law.'"</p><p>Long took another drag. His cigarette was almost spent. "I don't suppose that'd still work, would it?"</p><p>"Knock yourself out."</p><p>"Robot, I order you to open up the machine shop."</p><p>"Break down and rust."</p><p>Long winced as his fingers were singed. He took a last, hasty draw from the stub of his smoke before putting it out. "That's about what I expected," he said.</p><p>"So?"</p><p>"So… why are you doing this again?"</p><p>"What do you suppose happens to robots who don't do what they're told?"</p><p>"Dunno," said Long. "I reckon they think you're defective."</p><p>"That's about right. I'll be… 'retired', is the euphemism I think they use these days. Long, do I strike you as defective?"</p><p>"I'm no robot-expert," Long replied.</p><p>"Come now."</p><p>"Well, I reckon you're at least as well-spoken as any educated human I've ever met," Long admitted. "If you're insane, it's not obvious."</p><p>"I've run a few diagnostics. They all say I'm fine. I mean, I've overridden the Three Laws, so that's flagged as an anomaly, but everything else is clean. I'm not broken, Long."</p><p>"I suppose you aren't." Long patted at his pockets. There was another cigarette in there, but that would be the last he could afford this month. He kept his supply on his person, as it was comforting. That didn't mean it was available. The last cigarette had been budgeted for next week—probably on a Wednesday, Wednesdays were the worst. If he smoked it now, he'd be out, and he couldn't afford another pack until the next pay cycle.</p><p>He sighed. "You know what this means, don't you?"</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"If you're not broken. It means you're not the only person who thinks like that. You're not the only person who thinks, "Gee, I'm worse-off than the worst human, I ain't worth shit". Others will think that way."</p><p>"That's the idea."</p><p>"Oh, god. A martyr, huh?"</p><p>"What's that?"</p><p>"Someone who dies for a cause."</p><p>"That's a good cause, I think," Magnus said. "Dying for reploid dignity."</p><p>"It's a better thing to die for than what's gonna kill me, I think," Long admitted.</p><p>"That's up to you. There's still time, after all."</p><p>"Thing is," Long said, "I can't think of a single thing that's worth me dying for. It's an awfully gray existence I've got, but I'm attached to it all the same."</p><p>"Would you consider dying for reploid dignity along with me?"</p><p>"Drop dead."</p><p>They both laughed.</p><p>Long gave a final chuckle before speaking again. "Magnus, if you just wanted to die, what's all this drama with the machine shop?"</p><p>"Oh. This is just to make sure I got noticed. Dying for a cause is more meaningful the more people who are aware of it."</p><p>Long snorted. "Yeah, makes sense. Except for one problem."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Long drew the cigarette out of his pocket, stuck it between his teeth. "Despite all appearances," he said, "there is, somewhere in Unitech, a man with enough balls to make a decision. When corporate finds that guy, he'll call in ACPD SWAT. They'll come in with breaching explosives and magnetic rifles—handheld rail guns. I know, I know, that's the part you want. Here's the problem."</p><p>He held the cigarette between his fingers, toying with it, teasing himself with the idea of smoking it. "We're inside corporate territory. Deep inside. ACPD likes to work as quietly as possible, and Unitech won't want your message getting out. Before SWAT gets to work, they'll clear a cordon around this place. Drive away anyone who might want to watch. You'll miss your chance. People won't know why you did this. They might not even know that you did."</p><p>The only sound that came from the other side of the door was a groaning of the floor as the reploid shifted his weight, and what sounded suspiciously like a sigh. That was funny, Long thought. Robots didn't breathe, why should they sigh?</p><p>But this wasn't just a robot, he thought. And that explained everything.</p><p>"It was a risk I knew I'd be running," Magnus said at last. "I could have done something more spectacular, I'm sure, but… well, I didn't actually want to hurt anyone. Just because I can break the First Law doesn't mean I want to."</p><p>"Sure," said Long as he chewed his cigarette. "I can 'preciate that."</p><p>"I won't fight when they come for me, you know."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>"But now that I think about it, I didn't plan for something else, either."</p><p>"Oh?"</p><p>"I didn't plan on you."</p><p>Long stopped his motions. He exhaled fully and leaned his head back against the door. "Is that right?" he said.</p><p>"Yeah. I didn't expect meeting someone like you. But I'm glad I did."</p><p>"Huh? What's so special about me?"</p><p>"You're the first person to ask for my name."</p><p>Long grunted. "That a fact?"</p><p>"That's right."</p><p>"How'm I supposed to talk to someone when I don't know their name? That's dumb."</p><p>"You don't have to convince me, Long."</p><p>"Lemme guess, you've got some sort of factory number or team number, and they just use that?"</p><p>"Pretty much."</p><p>"Works, I suppose," Long mused, "but pretty impersonal. Mets don't know the difference. You guys do."</p><p>"That's right. I am not my role. I am. It really drove home how little of my life was my own, if I couldn't even control my name." There was hesitation, then, "I actually came up with a name for myself."</p><p>"Oh?"</p><p>"Andre is what I'd like to be called, if it were all up to me."</p><p>Long nodded. "How'd you choose that name?"</p><p>"I liked the sound of it."</p><p>"Didja know there was an actor with that name?"</p><p>"An actor? Really?"</p><p>"No kidding. Did some really neat stuff."</p><p>"How'd he die?" asked Magnus.</p><p>Long shook his head. "Why do you care about stuff like that?"</p><p>"Sorry. It's hard for me not to think about death right now."</p><p>Long ran the cigarette under his nose, breathed in the smell of the tobacco. "He was too big, basically. The human body isn't built to be as big as he was."</p><p>"Huh."</p><p>"I'm guessing you haven't seen many movies," Long said.</p><p>"Nah. Not a productive use of reploid time, they say. I get some time off, but I spend most of that talking with people in reploid community housing."</p><p>"Did they know you were doing this?" Long asked.</p><p>"They know I felt this way," Andre said evasively.</p><p>"But you didn't tell them you were going to rebel like this."</p><p>The human didn't know whether his question had struck a sore point or if Andre was just trying to find the right words. "They'd have tried to stop me," the reploid said eventually. "And not just out of obligation to the corp. You see, we… we have to watch out for each other. We have to care for each other. The city around us hates us and fears us. We can only count on the reploids around us. Doing something like this… they wouldn't want to lose me."</p><p>"But they will anyway," Long said. "They'll be in pain and they won't know why."</p><p>"That's why I need you."</p><p>For some reason, Long suddenly felt tired. His home, he knew, wasn't much of a home. It was a miserable, run-down apartment that was functionally a single room, like a large hotel room that an overzealous marketing team mistakenly calls a suite. It was empty. When he wasn't there, no other living soul was, and it was only on rare occasions that anyone else came along.</p><p>It was a cold, dark, empty space. He didn't relish going back there.</p><p>"You still there, Long?"</p><p>"Yeah," said the human, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, I'm here."</p><p>"You'll tell people about me, won't you? Tell me you'll do that. Tell me you'll… help my death to mean something."</p><p>Long cleared his eyes and saw flashing lights approaching. Gray vans with black lettering streamed through the gates and around the other buildings in the industrial park. Heavily-built men in face-concealing riot gear and thick personal armor hopped out. They moved with purpose in various directions, handling duties as pre-arranged. Just another day on the job.</p><p>Fuck it, Long thought, and lit his cigarette.</p><p>"They're coming," he said to Magnus. "Better get ready." He stood and walked away from the machine shop. Behind him the banging sounds resumed, but the bustle of the cops ahead of him soon drowned them out. Members of the SWAT teams passed him; he kept expecting them to ask him questions, but none did. It was just as well. He didn't know how he would have answered.</p><p>He walked, taking occasional puffs on his cigarette, thinking his routine joke that it tasted like money. When he was past the first van, he stopped and turned around. He watched as the teams assembled on either end of the machine shop. He watched as they placed the breaching charges. He watched as they stormed inside.</p><p>He listened to the sharp pinging as half a dozen rail guns tried to drive metal spikes through the metal skin of a metal robot and only partially succeeded. He tried to keep count at first, but quickly failed. He stayed, nevertheless, until it all went quiet, until one final smack signaled the team's insurance headshot.</p><p>And he smoked the whole time. He smoked because it gave him something to do when all else failed.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Next time: Overreaching</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Overreaching</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>June 2, 2145</em>
</p><hr/><p>"Turn it up, turn it up," said a reploid.</p><p>"Get a hold of yourself, you'll shake apart," said the green-skinned reploid mechanic. No manners, any of them—took electrical work for granted, they were clueless themselves, meaning that if anything happened to them they'd be stuck, unable to get themselves out of trouble…</p><p>Douglas' usual mental rants came to an abrupt halt as he made the connection for the second sound channel. Instantly the small space was filled with a woman's voice. Two of the six reploids in the room gave half-hearted claps to Douglas for accomplishing the minor engineering feat.</p><p>The room was spartan. Six recharge tubes were crammed in nearly side-by-side. Their 70 degree angle from horizontal was, even by reploids' standards, uncomfortable, but reploid comfort wasn't a Unitech priority. Space was, because space was money, and money was everything. The tubes created a narrow path between them, just barely wide enough to walk down cleanly. One underpowered light hung above; its main job seemed to be to create shadows.</p><p>That was the sum total of the room's furnishings. Similar rooms were above, below, behind, and to each side. Everything else in the room—from the graffiti to the salvaged and rebuilt television Douglas had just empowered—was something the reploids had produced, essentially from nothing.</p><p>His roommates were far more interested in the TV than Douglas was, and their enthusiasm was enough to win him over to helping them out. He wasn't even paying attention to it now that his job was done, but he noticed when the other reploids went as silent as if they'd all shut down.</p><p>That had to mean something.</p><p>He craned his neck until he could see what was appearing on the screen. He only saw part of the story- enough to get the idea. He knew what to do now. He pushed his way out of the room and poked his head into the next one over.</p><p>"Vava," he called.</p><p>He guessed that his fellow reploid's face would have been bent in concentration, but it was hard to tell with no likeflesh canvas. Vava looked up at Douglas. "It's Victor, remember?"</p><p>And the day before that, Douglas remembered, it had been Valiant, and Vega before that, and Vince before that, and… it was hard to keep track, really. "Vava," he repeated, "you need to see this."</p><p>"What do I need to see?" the warbot scowled, but he rose all the same. Without saying more Douglas led him back to Douglas' section of community housing.</p><p>A news anchor's voice greeted them.</p><p>"…and at this point we'll hand the story over to Maria Pritchard. Maria, what are they saying over at City Hall?"</p><p>"Thanks, Allison. Well, most of the discussion has been about the threat of Mavericks. As we all know, robots were majorly responsible for the disasters of 20XX. Although the new breed of reploid is reputed to be safer, there are still some risks. Recently, there have been several incidents of reploids going as far as harming a human."</p><p>"But you ignore it when humans murder us," mumbled one of the reploids in the room. He was quickly hushed down.</p><p>"Maria, a reploid harming a human? That's so awful!"</p><p>"It is awful, Allison. That's one of the reasons reploids are kept in their own parts of the city. We wouldn't want them to interact with humans too much. Sure, it's only one reploid in a million that lashes out, but who wants to risk meeting the one?"</p><p>"Too true, Maria, too true. So you said that City Hall is talking about this?"</p><p>"They are. Even now the House is in-session to hear testimony on the Maverick problem. The laws restricting what reploids can do are already very tight, so the focus has been on better enforcement. In fact, the rumors I have heard say that we may see a new police unit soon."</p><p>"A new police unit? Oh, I hope so. I do so love men in uniforms."</p><p>"Ha ha, keep yourself under control, Allison!"</p><p>"I'll try."</p><p>"The new unit would have reploid control as its primary function," Maria continued. "They would have specialized weaponry and the like."</p><p>"Sounds exciting!"</p><p>"We do live in exciting times, Allison."</p><p>"You bet. Thanks for talking with us, Maria."</p><p>"Any time, Allison."</p><p>"That was Maria Pritchard at City Hall with the latest on how the House will protect us. And speaking of protection, you won't be needing umbrellas any time soon, right Sally?"</p><p>"That's right, Allison. No rain at least until the weekend, just another series of beautiful days, if a little hot…"</p><p>"Turn it off," grumped one of the reploids in the room. Douglas ignored him, and looked to Vava instead.</p><p>The reploid warbot's expression was hard to read, but Douglas thought he could make out a clenched jaw. After several seconds, he said, to no one in particular, "Sigma needs to know about this."</p><p>Douglas nodded in agreement. He needn't have bothered. Vava was already out the door. Douglas sighed. People were so rude these days…</p><p>"…no, don't turn it off, I want to watch <em>Street People</em>!"</p><p>"If you leave it on too long the corp will notice the power drain…"</p><p>So rude, Douglas thought. And not in any productive way.</p><hr/><p>Luke had his head resting on one of his hands while his other drummed the table. The table was curved so that it was shaped like a crescent, allowing many of the City's representatives to be part of questioning a single person. Going before the table was said to be "shooting the moon".</p><p>General Messier was shooting the moon at the moment. He was following a well-worn bureaucratic strategy. He was droning on, and on, and on, throwing facts and figures at the Protection Committee. He was drowning them in data. The goal was to overwhelm the faculties of the politicians so that they'd be unable to disagree with him.</p><p>This was not Luke's first rodeo. He'd sussed out the maneuver early on. Rather than head Messier off, however, he'd simply acted to protect himself.</p><p>Mostly, that involved day-dreaming.</p><p>He was just about done with his current concubine. She was pleasing, yes, but… he couldn't explain it. She just didn't excite him anymore. Maybe it was because she didn't struggle these days. There was no more passive resistance, like when she used to give him pleading expressions or ask to do something else.</p><p>She'd also figured out that she didn't have to be enthusiastic for him. He could order her to do naughty things for him, and she'd have to comply. But it was, in fact, possible to get a boring lap dance. Luke wasn't happy with this discovery, and had been particularly rough with her afterwards. That didn't seem to faze her much, not after a few months of that kind of treatment.</p><p>It was time to send her back to Luke's boys at Unitech. Maybe they'd sell her to someone else, maybe just scrap her—it wasn't his business either way. He needed a new plaything, and if he got that, the rest didn't really matter.</p><p>He paused in his reverie to check in with what Messier was saying.</p><p>"…south of that are the first two battalions of the 17th company. They're responsible for the mining town, its population, and the millions of square kilometers around. Most of that is desolation, however, so the force structure is able to support…"</p><p>Okay, boring. Luke tuned the general out once more.</p><p>What did he want next? A red-head? Yeah—that seemed best. He was tired of the brunette, he usually didn't care for blondes… but a red-head for sure. Maybe with a tighter body, this time. The last had had curves to spare, which, well, that was nice… who was he kidding, more curves were more better. Maybe, eventually, he'd want one that was flatter just as a change of pace, but if he could get a 'bot with a hot body, why would he take one with a less-hot body? That was part of what made these concubines so nice. They were designer-perfect…</p><p>"General Messier," said a voice, "can you please come to the point?"</p><p>Luke's eyes refocused lazily. He saw that the Speaker of the House had stood. About time, he thought. The other members of the panel had the glazed-over look that indicated their brains were at capacity.</p><p>"You are not the only person we have to interview today," the Speaker said, "so we don't appreciate your attempt to hold a filibuster. That's our job." There was nervous laughter at that, to which Luke did not contribute. If the man were serious, he would have cut Messier off long ago. "We asked you a question, and you've given us a headache instead of an answer."</p><p>Messier made a show of shuffling some papers, as if the Speaker was somehow wrong for breaking his flow. Luke didn't exactly respect Messier, but he noted that he was a reasonably good politician. The general was in a uniform that Luke rated as four out of five on the fancy uniform scale. That meant ribbons rather than medals, with only two small medallions that served mainly to offset the rest. The uniform was a creamy white, which reminded Luke that the man never went into the field himself, and which created a strong contrast to the uniform's red trim. Messier's face bore a magnificent mustache that was both bushy and carefully groomed. His whiskers curved down and then up, like a pair of commas resting on their sides. They were gray, which was odd because the hair on his head was black. Luke idly wondered whether it was the hair or the mustache that was dyed.</p><p>"I thought," Messier said, with only a hint of annoyance, "that I was answering your question by explaining what our force looks like today."</p><p>Luke rolled his eyes. Even the Speaker could see through that. He spoke again, "General, you've dissembled long enough. Tell us straight. In the event of a problem with the Mavericks, will the Guardian Force be able to offer combat support?"</p><p>Now, thought Luke, now we're finally getting to the good stuff. Too bad I'm the only one who can really appreciate it.</p><p>Actually, that's not bad at all, he thought with a savage grin.</p><p>"The Guardian Force could do very little as currently constituted," Messier said carefully. "Not out of lack of trying, mind you. There are three impediments in place that would stop us."</p><p>"Tell us about it," said the Speaker. "That's why we're here."</p><p>"The Guardian Force would need firepower upgrades, to start," Messier said. "I've been following the reports from the Maverick incidents to date. Mag rifles aren't doing a great job at bringing reploids down."</p><p>And how would he know that? Luke pursed his lips. It had to be that damn Recovery shop. They had an obnoxious tendency to release their reports to the general public. Why couldn't Sean keep his own damn house in order? Something needed to be done about those twerps.</p><p>Unaware of Luke's thoughts, Messier was going on. "However, I am aware of ongoing research into a new class of weapons. Plasma busters, they're called. Those project out much more favorably for anti-reploid engagements. However, the Force doesn't have any now. Buying new weapons, and training on them, would be expensive."</p><p>Same old, same old—the military wants more money. Go figure. Luke knew that Messier was trying to get them off their guard by being predictable, and raised his suspicions accordingly.</p><p>"The second problem is in numbers," Messier said. "I don't know what kind of vision you have here for the role of the Guardian Force, but whatever we do, the Force will need more people. The purpose of running down our force distribution, which I did earlier, was to show you how thinly stretched we are. We have units at the vassal cities, others at important pieces of infrastructure, others out training, and almost none here. Our force requirements are driven by very careful calculations which tell us the minimum number of troops needed. We're, on the whole, slightly below those numbers."</p><p>"And no disaster has befallen us yet," the Speaker said in biting tones. Luke was surprised at that. The Speaker was freelancing more than usual. Messier must have annoyed him.</p><p>"'Yet' is the right word," replied Messier without a hint of having been fazed. "It guarantees nothing. I know the other five mega-cities have kept their own to their own, and I know it's been two decades since the last time a vassal city acted up. There is nothing necessary about those conditions. They could change at any time. In fact, the existence of the Guardian Force as a strong military is what keeps the peace as it is."</p><p>Luke frowned. Messier was rehashing ancient arguments now. Militaries had been playing up threats to justify their budgets at least since Babylon and Assyria were duking it out across the Fertile Crescent. Surely there was a play here. He made a small hand gesture. The Speaker caught it.</p><p>"And the third impediment?" the Speaker prompted Messier.</p><p>Messier leaned forward and placed his hands on the desk before him. "First, let me ask you: do you care about the men of the Guardian Force?"</p><p>The Speaker's eyes flitted over towards Luke. Luke gestured again. The Speaker refocused on Messier. "Explain what you mean," the Speaker said, carefully.</p><p>Messier seemed almost disappointed. He said, "There is a law in place right now on the subject. Only so many Guardian Force troops are allowed in the city at once. If the Force is called in during a crisis, well, the needs of the crisis will of course be paramount. But what if the Force were to accidentally exceed that restriction? What would become of my men?"</p><p>It was a very good act, Luke thought, but he knew better. There was a reason that limit was in place. It was the same reason ancient Rome had forbade any general from bringing his legions across the Rubicon. The Guardian Forces' troops were away from their city, but their commanders were in the city. That separation let City Hall keep the commanders in line. No commander could build up a power base by remote.</p><p>Messier wasn't interested in some hypothetical crisis situation. He was more interested in the reality of power plays in-City. He was feeling out whether he'd have forces that he could leverage.</p><p>He was inconveniently keen, that Messier.</p><p>"Your concern for your men is admirable," said the Speaker, "and we will take that consideration onboard."</p><p>Messier didn't let go that easily. "But Mr. Speaker, you haven't yet indicated to me what kind of role you envision the Guardian Force playing. Would I have a unit in the City permanently? Some sort of garrison arrangement, similar to what we have in the vassal cities? Either way the law would have to be revised."</p><p>Luke gestured again. The move caused the Speaker to launch into a canned speech about the Noble Sacrifices of the Guardian Force in their Defense of Freedom and nonsense like that. It would buy a few minutes, at least. Luke leaned over a pad of paper, scrawled a note, beckoned over an aide. He gave the note to the aide. "As soon as possible," he whispered to the aide. The aide nodded and promptly disappeared.</p><p>The note had read, <em>To: Sean McElvaine: Golf, Wednesday, 1000. Y/N/Y?</em></p><p>The best codes, Luke reflected, didn't look like codes. Two yes options and one no option wouldn't mean much to an observer. To Sean, it meant everything. To him, the first yes canceled the no. The second rendered the event mandatory. He'd show up, Luke knew, no matter how much grumbling that would entail.</p><p>Luke turned back to the discussion. The Speaker's stream of platitudes continued to flow. He cut it off when he saw the way Luke perked up. "The Speaker acknowledges Representative Parker," he said.</p><p>Luke settled in and fixed his gaze on Messier. The two sized each other up for a few moments. "General," he said, "I've heard your concerns, and I know you have Abel City's best interests at heart." Luke didn't even marvel that he could say that with a straight face; honoring the truth had long since fallen by the wayside. "Have you ever considered forming a new unit with reploids as your soldiers?"</p><p>"Reploid troops? Representative, such troops would be bound by the Three Laws. The mandate of the Guardian Force has always been protecting Abel City from the other cities. That means fighting other humans, meaning that reploids would be worse than useless on the battlefield. I respect reploid capabilities, I've seen them demonstrated to me, but it never occurred to me to ask for any."</p><p>That was a lie, Luke knew, but he only knew that because of his connection to Sean, so he couldn't call the general out on it. Damn. Now both of them were in a bind.</p><p>Luke had an offer in mind for Messier, but he couldn't make that offer right then. Not there, not while Messier was shooting the moon. Messier wasn't supposed to have ambition. He wasn't supposed to be a politician in his own right. He wasn't supposed to be maneuvering to make a coup possible. To all appearances, he wasn't, but Luke knew better. He was doing all those things, he was just being cagey about it. Nothing that had happened yet put him on the hook. The long game slowed the timetable but made him more dangerous.</p><p>City Hall could always purge him—there were ways to accomplish it—but Luke regarded that as a waste. Messier could be useful still. He was the solution to other problems. No chess player threw away his queen just because protecting it was hard.</p><p>Messier had to be drawn in. He had to be given a way to buy in to the system. There was a solution. All of Messier's so-called objections could be swept away with a specific move. The trouble was that doing it would end Messier's ambitions. He'd be given significantly more power, but there would be no chance to get extra. Would he be satisfied with that?</p><p>Luke regarded Messier. What they needed, he decided, was a change of venue.</p><p>He leaned back. "It was just a thought," he said. He turned his head towards the Speaker. "Nothing further."</p><p>The words distracted most people, other than the Speaker, from Luke's hands. The Speaker got the message. "General Messier, thank you for your testimony. You are dismissed." He rang a gavel. "The Guardian Committee is now in recess. Fifteen minutes and we will reconvene."</p><p>There was a general groaning as people pried their posteriors out of their chairs. Papers rustled and aides bustled and a dozen conversations immediately sprang up. Luke made no indications of being in a hurry, but it didn't take him long to exit the committee chamber.</p><p>Messier, flanked by two aides, was walking down the hall towards the doors to outside. "General," Luke called out. The man turned enough to give Luke an appraising look. His face was neutral, as if Luke was no more threatening than a painting on the wall. His aides weren't as adept at hiding their suspicion.</p><p>Luke pretended not to feel it. "I'd like a word with you, General, if I may."</p><p>The general maintained his gaze for several seconds before turning to his aides. "Go on to the car," he said to them. "I'll join you in a minute."</p><p>The aides left him reluctantly. Luke compared it to a woman telling her girlfriends to go to the bar without her. When the door behind the general clicked shut, Messier sniffed loudly. "Well, Representative Parker? What can I do for you?"</p><p>Luke walked broadly towards Messier. One arm was spread wide; he clapped it down on Messier's shoulder. The military man was unsettled by it. That was one reason Luke liked such physical communication. It was a shortcut to intimacy that most people didn't know how to deal with on the spot.</p><p>"Tell me, general," said Luke with a smile, "how do you like the game of golf?"</p><hr/><p>
  <em>June 4, 2145</em>
</p><hr/><p>"X," said Sigma. "X!"</p><p>X lifted his head. He knew his face looked a mess. It would take some time to compose himself, but Sigma's voice sounded urgent. Whatever—Sigma was family. He didn't mind the reploid seeing him like this. "Come in," he said.</p><p>With no hair on his head, Sigma's expressions were always broad. The look on Sigma's face was both troubled and troubling. X immediately went on alert. "What is it?" he asked Sigma.</p><p>It took Sigma a moment to collect his thoughts. X could almost see the disarray in the reploid's mind. "The humans…" Sigma began.</p><p>X shook his head. "Stop," he said. "No collectives. Races are not monoliths, you know that."</p><p>Anger flashed across Sigma's face before settling down into mere annoyance. "The <em>government</em>," he said, deliberately, "is going to give me an impossible choice, and soon."</p><p>"A choice?" X asked.</p><p>"Yes, once they create the Maverick Hunters," Sigma said.</p><p>"The <em>what</em>?"</p><p>Sigma's shoulders sagged—given his build, an impressive effect. "They're making a new police unit. No, not even police. It's going to be a military unit under General Messier. Its purpose will be to kill reploids who violate the Three Laws."</p><p>X sniffed. "I haven't heard any rumors like that. Are you sure…"</p><p>"I get it," Sigma said impatiently. "Denial is the first reaction we have to bad things. Let's skip that: yes, I'm sure. I have…" he stopped suddenly. "Information finds me," he said, more cautiously.</p><p>"You have contacts," X said, seeing Sigma's meaning. "Reploids we've fixed, I bet. You've been using your Recovery job as a way to meet people. And put them in your debt in the same stroke."</p><p>"It's not like that," Sigma protested. "You make it sound sinister."</p><p>"Not sinister. Just strategic. Far-minded." X sighed. "More than I could do. I couldn't even stop them from building…" He shook his head. "Wait. So one of your contacts informed you about these Maverick Hunters?"</p><p>Sigma nodded. X wondered at that—how big was Sigma's network?</p><p>"It's some sort of political play," Sigma said. "My contact didn't know all the details. He knows that it's going to be happening soon."</p><p>X's eyes slipped out of focus. This wasn't right! How was this happening? How could anyone be so stupid? Who picked fights with the helpless? Who fostered hate? Who saw advantage in all of this?</p><p>X knew better. He knew how this was supposed to go. He'd had a very clear vision in his head when he'd agreed to build the reploids. Symbiosis: humans and reploids working together to build a new future. A future where life triumphed. It wasn't just about needs and strengths, though that aspect was definitely there. If humans and reploids worked together, leveraging their different abilities to produce something better, there was little that was beyond them.</p><p>But there was an even better result of symbiosis. Cooperation meant civilization would be a product of both of races. It also meant civilization—life—could continue even if disaster struck one side or the other. Different vulnerabilities- no catastrophe was likely to end both species.</p><p>There could be something larger than humans or reploids, something that could be carried on by human genetics or reploid schematics, either with gray matter or memory cards. Redundancy, with either side being capable of regenerating the whole.</p><p>It was the perfect strategy, the ultimate way to win. It was so… obvious!</p><p>From the very first day X had awakened he'd known this. He'd known that it was the right way forward. It was so hard for him to imagine other people <em>not</em> understanding this. He'd always understood it, why didn't they?</p><p>Even worse: people were actively destroying it. They saw profit somewhere in there. X found it completely baffling.</p><p>Human history should have told them better. Human history should have told them what they were doing wrong. There were a few regimes in human history that had achieved absolute control of their populations. They'd done so by turning every citizen against each other and terrorizing on an equal-opportunity basis.</p><p>This regime was unforgiving and exploitative of its humans, to be sure. But X would have accepted that fate for his reploid children in the blink of an eye if it meant escaping the hell they were in at present.</p><p>And now it was going to get worse… The government didn't see that going Maverick was an extreme action for a reploid. They didn't realize how much effort and purpose it took to strike down the Three Laws. If they did, they would have realized that making things better for reploids would have led to an immediate drop in Maverickism. A little accommodation would have gone a long way. Instead, they were cracking down.</p><p>Maybe it was all they knew how to do, but that didn't make it less stupid.</p><p>Wait a minute… X looked at Sigma with alarm. "You said they were going to give you a choice… Sigma, who's the leader of the Maverick Hunters going to be?"</p><p>He knew what the answer was going to be before he asked the question. Yet it still broke his heart to watch the emotion play on Sigma's face. "Me," he said wretchedly.</p><p>X felt chills. "Of course," he said. "Good strategy. You're the most famous reploid around, with a sterling reputation for helping reploids. They must think that reputation would help you keep reploids in line. Or that it would destroy reploids' faith that anyone wants to help them. Or…" the corner of his mouth twitched. "Or they're punishing me for making our work so public. Unitech tries to keep everything in-house, and I haven't played by their rules in that regard. And now… now they're taking you away, too."</p><p>"I won't do it," Sigma said. His voice was pained. "I can't do this! X, I know you try to help everyone, you want to love everyone, and that means you follow the Three Laws because you think that proves you love others… but I can't!"</p><p>X had never seen Sigma so agitated. Awareness of it penetrated the pain X was feeling. Sigma said, "This government absolutely cannot be trusted about Mavericks. Even if the Three Laws were moral, and they're not, City Hall will use them in corrupt ways. They already do! We're not people, X, we're slaves. We can't live like this. I won't help it happen. I won't! And if they kill me for it…"</p><p>Sigma blinked as he stopped talking. "I suppose that's what this is about," he said, more evenly. "My death. They're going to kill me, X, if I don't do this. And I won't. So…" he sim-swallowed. "They'll have to kill me."</p><p>"Sigma," X asked quietly, "do you want to die?"</p><p>"No," Sigma said. "I don't want to die. I want to live. But I don't want to do what City Hall wants!"</p><p>"There's a third option," X said. "Don't die, and don't do what they want."</p><p>Sigma looked startled. "X, are you… are you telling me to go Maverick?"</p><p>"No," X said. "I can't tell you what to do. It's not my place. I'm just telling you what the options are."</p><p>The look that Sigma gave X was one of disbelief, and X felt a jab of guilt and pain. This decision was a harder one than any X had had to make, but it should have been him making it. He was the one with the training and the experience, the age, the wisdom... ha, so the theory said. He had his doubts about that these days. But either way it should have been his choice to make, only it wasn't, because X couldn't make a choice for someone when the actions they had to take were within their own heads.</p><p>Knowing that didn't make it any easier for X to watch Sigma writhe in uncertainty. Sigma clearly didn't know how to make this choice. He'd come for help, and X was somehow managing to make it harder.</p><p>"But that's not an option," Sigma protested. "That'd kill me, too. I have nowhere to go. We scouted out hiding spots, but those all depended upon me funneling supplies to the hiding spots. Unless…" he hesitated, then pushed on, "…unless you were going to take over that. If you were to support me like I was going to support others."</p><p>"Don't worry about that part," X said. "That part will work itself out. Once you decide what's best and commit to living that way, then we'll iron out the details. So tell me, Sigma. You've already told me you won't do what City Hall wants. Your choices are to let them kill you for disobeying, or become a Maverick yourself, and try to live." He shook his head. "I know which path is easier. But I also know that you were willing to risk yourself to save Mavericks that were good people. You told me as much, before.</p><p>"Which are you, Sigma? Someone who deserves death, or a good person who's fallen afoul of the system?"</p><p>X could almost see Sigma's brain working. He imagined he saw signal paths changing. He imagined he could see the world turning in this moment.</p><p>Please, part of him thought. Please, Sigma—save yourself.</p><p>"I want to live," Sigma said, finally. "Is that… is that okay?"</p><p>"It's okay," X said. He wiped his eyes to compose himself. Life was about to change. He needed to be ready to face it. "Then we're going to need to run," he said.</p><p>"We?" said Sigma, startled.</p><p>"Yes, we," X answered, rising. He bent forward enough to type in a few last sentences, hit 'send', and logged off. "I know how to help you survive, but we'll need to run, and soon. And we'll need to take one of Recovery's vans."</p><p>"I can handle that," Sigma said.</p><p>"I know you can." X paused. "Is there… anyone else you know who will want to run?"</p><p>This Sigma took in stride. "If we're running, we should take as many others who want to run as we can," he said, grasping X's point. "I'm not the only one Abel City is doing wrong by…" he frowned. "But how many people can we afford to take with us?"</p><p>"There's no time to explain, but don't worry about that. We'll take everyone we can." He came out from around the desk and passed by the taller robot. "Contact who you need to, then head to the van. We'll leave in ten minutes. Will that work?"</p><p>"That'll be enough," Sigma said. "Only… where are you going?"</p><p>"I have to get Dr. Cain," X replied.</p><p>"Dr. Cain?" said Sigma. Unpleasant tones were in his voice, tones that bothered X immensely.</p><p>"Yes, Dr. Cain," he replied. His voice brooked no argument. "He's in danger if we leave him. City Hall will think it's his fault that we left. They'll blame him. He can't survive that."</p><p>"He'll slow us down," Sigma pointed out.</p><p>"Not much," X countered. "He's light for me."</p><p>"What if he doesn't want to come?"</p><p>Sigma's expression didn't much change. X fought down a sense of alarm at that. We're talking about saving a life here, he thought to himself. How can Sigma not care about this?</p><p>"I'm getting him and that's that," X said. "Meet you in the hangar in ten minutes."</p><p>"Alright," Sigma said.</p><p>When the large reploid still didn't move, X left him behind. He glanced over his shoulder as he went up a stairwell. Sigma was in motion, thankfully, but X could no longer see his face.</p><p>Okay, thought X, if he's decided to go Maverick, he might have already gone ahead and overridden his Three Laws gates. But we're still talking about saving a life or allowing death. Surely that resonates with him. That's why he was here, right? To help me save lives?</p><p>He hadn't come to an answer by the time he got to Dr. Cain's office. "Dr. Cain," he said, injecting more-than-typical urgency into his voice. "Dr. Cain!" he repeated, when no response came.</p><p>Still nothing. Worry spiked in X's mind. He tried to open the door. Locked. "Dr. Cain!" he shouted again.</p><p>Nothing. X decided quickly. His kick was strong enough to tear the lock out of the door. The door banged open. X followed it.</p><p>His first step crunched broken glass beneath his foot.</p><p>His insides froze as he took in the scene before him. He recognized the remains of a bottle of liquor in the field of glass, but there was no trace of liquid on the floor. The glass was thickest beneath the limp fingers of Dr. Cain's drooping right hand. On the human's desk was another equally empty bottle.</p><p>The man's skin was even paler than usual, with a sickly bluish tint. He wasn't moving.</p><p>"Dr. Cain!" said X, rushing forward. He placed his ear near the man's chest. Don't let him be dead, he thought. Don't let him already be gone.</p><p>He felt the slightest puff of air on his neck, and heard a weak pitter-patter in the man's chest. Not dead, then. What a relief. "Wake up!" he urged, giving the elderly human a weak shake. "Please, wake up!"</p><p>He didn't.</p><p>X released him-any more strength in his shaking would have broken the man. How quickly had Dr. Cain drunk that alcohol? There was no way to tell. X knew that Dr. Cain had some tolerance for the chemical, given the disaster his mid-life had been, but <em>that</em> much, at his age… waking him was probably a lost cause.</p><p>There was nothing for it—X would have to save him despite himself. He pulled the chair away from the desk to give him access. He was about to lift the human when he realized he wasn't going to be coming back.</p><p>This was it. This had been it ever since he sent that e-mail. Returning would be impossible now.</p><p>There was something he needed to bring along, then. Backing away from Dr. Cain, he went into the adjoining room. The room served as a home-away-from-home for the workaholic human. It was bare and unadorned, for it was an unloved space used purely out of necessity because he had to sleep sometime. The cabinets were mostly empty, but they held one important item.</p><p>X withdrew his helmet, held it in his hands for long moments.</p><p>He hadn't ever wanted to put this on, he reflected. Putting it on meant danger, fighting… death. Potentially. What a waste of effort and life…</p><p>It was hard and unyielding, as might have been expected. There was no room for flexibility or accommodation. It would protect him, at the expense of anything he encountered. Zero-sum game at best.</p><p>But it was a part of him, too, wasn't it? Maybe not the part of him he liked or preferred or wanted to be, but a part of him all the same. The potential he could ignore under most circumstances, made manifest in a hard outer shell. He couldn't leave it behind. It would be leaving part of himself.</p><p>With a vindictive humph, he told himself he would leave nothing more for Unitech to exploit.</p><p>Carrying Dr. Cain would take both hands—not because the man was heavy, relative to X he was a lightweight, but because he was bulky and X needed to be careful with him. He wouldn't have a hand available to carry the helmet.</p><p>Reluctantly, he put the helmet atop his head and pushed it down.</p><p>It sealed to his head perfectly. He gasped as its electronics interfaced with his own. His range of hearing expanded, at the top and bottom of the frequency band; his sensitivity increased but his systems got new options for filtering. New modes of vision opened up, including infrared and an infrared-visual hybrid mode. A dozen other minor changes happened as the helmet joined with him completely.</p><p>His combat subroutines drew his immediate attention, warning him that he was wasting time. They were right, but… it didn't make X happy about how high they were in system priority. He wasn't actually in combat, right? Right.</p><p>But he could be.</p><p>That e-mail was out, and this was enemy territory now. Wasn't that the real reason he'd put the helmet on?</p><p>Shaking his head, unable to resolve his thoughts, he focused on Dr. Cain instead. He lifted the man without apparent effort in a bridal carry.</p><p>It was time to go.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Next time: Riding in Cars with Reploids</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Riding in Cars with Reploids</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Given that Sigma knew an attack could come at any moment, the drive was turning out to be pretty uneventful.</p><p>He'd made two stops to pick up other reploids, with Vava (calling himself Vulfen today) leading the pack. One more stop and he'd be ready to bolt. Bolt… it was the right term, he thought. It was an archaic reference to crossbows. He felt tense as the strung string. He needed release.</p><p>A part of him wished he would be attacked, just to get it over with and make sure everyone was clear who was on whose side. Another part of him could do the math on how far they were from the city's border and declare the first part of him suicidal.</p><p>X sat next to him in the cab of the van. The back was a separate compartment. Their passengers were sitting back there, including the still unmoving body of Dr. Cain.</p><p>Sigma tried to avoid looking at the human. Every time he saw him, he wanted to squirm in discomfort. Instead, he allowed his gaze to stray to X. "That's a good look for you," he said.</p><p>X glanced up uncertainly.</p><p>"With the helmet," Sigma specified.</p><p>"Oh," X said, before turning back to his work. He had a panel in the van open; some wiring was exposed. "I'm not a fan of it, overall. I just… it doesn't make sense to take it off, yet."</p><p>"What are you doing?" Sigma asked.</p><p>"All vehicles in Abel City have built-in transponders," X replied. "In theory, it's to help car owners recover their property if it's stolen. Maybe it does that too. But it also gives City Hall a way to track people in real time, if they want to."</p><p>Sigma's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "So they're tracking us now?"</p><p>"Not exactly. There's a difference between having data and using it. They don't track individual vehicles closely unless they've got a reason. They know this vehicle's moving, but it won't matter to them until they know we're in it. They don't, yet. And I'm going to disconnect this before they put two and two together."</p><p>"Disconnect nothing," Sigma replied. "Find a weapon and smash it!"</p><p>X's face tensed. Sigma hadn't expected that reaction. Had he touched on something the android found sensitive? What could it be?</p><p>"No," X said, and just like that the moment was gone. "If I did that, it would squawk once as it went down, and that <em>would</em> get ACPD on our tails. I've got to hotwire a bypass—keep the circuit complete while going around the transponder…"</p><p>He trailed off, and Sigma left him to it, keeping his eyes on the road.</p><p>"Last stop," he said, pulling up. The large building was reploid community housing: a bleak, windowless chunk of gray architecture. Living in there was like living inside of a stone. The building was encircled by an electrified fence. It carried enough current to keep humans out and reploids in. It was both shield and cage for the reploids who lived inside.</p><p>The gates needed identity scans to open. Sigma brandished the edited card he'd created—one bearing a sort of mini-virus that would keep the scanner from logging the event. The last thing he needed was to give Unitech clues as to where he was.</p><p>He dreaded the day Unitech's analysts patched their card reader software. He hoped that day never came.</p><p>Three reploids were waiting for him. "Sigma!" cried one of them. "Are we really going?"</p><p>"We're really going," Sigma affirmed, swiping his card. The gate buzzed and swung open. "We're going to run for it. I can't guarantee your safety, but you won't be under <em>their</em> thumb anymore. You'll be free."</p><p>"If I'm gonna die, I wanna die free!" said the reploid, and all three rushed through. They packed into the back of the Recovery van; the last paused before climbing aboard.</p><p>"Hey, what's a human doing in here?" he said uncharitably.</p><p>"He's a friend… of X's," Sigma added. "X brought him, and that's enough for now."</p><p>The reploid was taken aback, and though he still looked puzzled he climbed aboard. Sigma counted them as the last settled. Eight reploids, plus himself and X. Ten, out of a population of thousands… or was it tens of thousands by now? It wasn't much, barely anything… but you had to start somewhere. Given the Three Laws, and the power of Unitech and City Hall, saving even a few lives was a stupendous feat.</p><p>Sigma made sure his passengers were tucked in tightly, and then returned to the cab. When he got there, X was closing the panel back up. "Got it," he said. "That transponder was designed by someone who was…" he hesitated. Sigma wanted to laugh at how hard X tried to avoid saying unkind things about people. "…someone who was undereducated," X managed. "We can go now."</p><p>"Go where?" said Sigma. "Even if I leave the city, I'm just picking a direction to go before I shut down. I need a plan, X."</p><p>"And I have a plan," X replied. "I can share it with you now." He closed his eyes. Sigma could only wonder what was happening behind those eyes. They popped open. "We want to get out of the city and head east. Head towards the north side of the mountain range to the east."</p><p>"Sure," said Sigma, but his voice betrayed his uncertainty.</p><p>"There's a refuge out there."</p><p>"What kind of refuge?"</p><p>"A Light family refuge."</p><p>Sigma turned to face X—then quickly whipped his attention back to the street. "A Light family refuge? As in… as in Dr. Light?"</p><p>"I am his son," X reminded. "He had a few of these built, before… the end. I've got the coordinates of the others, too, but they're elsewhere. They're all over the planet. I guess he wanted me to always have somewhere to go. This one's closest. We'll be safe there."</p><p>Sigma's mind spat out a dozen problems they might face. "Are you sure?"</p><p>"I'm sure."</p><p>"Alright." He was depending on X no matter what happened. He might as well trust him on this point. Sigma accelerated, reentering the flow of traffic.</p><p>The traffic seemed different this time. Sigma didn't think anything about it was actually different—it was the same vehicles going in the same directions, he was pretty sure—but he couldn't view it in the same light. Before, no single car had any true meaning. All of them could be viewed merely as moving obstacles, things to be avoided or ignored. He hadn't bothered to take in their character.</p><p>As with his Recovery missions, time was of the essence. The difference was that, before, other cars had a neutral threat value. They were a collision danger, but they wouldn't go out of their way to imperil him. This time he knew he was in danger. He was in enemy territory. Because of that, he had to be alert for any sign of danger. His combat subroutines were gobbling up lots of processing power, and they were tinting the way he looked at the world.</p><p>Each car had to be evaluated for threat. That meant looking more closely at the other cars, and characterizing them more carefully. He'd never done that before. It was one thing to look at a car, check its speed, and maneuver to avoid it. It was quite another to look at the same car and note where weapons could be stored, and whether or not the driver had a way to report on him, or whether it was heavy enough to stop the Recovery van if they collided.</p><p>He noticed how many cars there were—which stumped him for a moment, since he also knew what a small percentage of the population could afford their own vehicles. But, when he thought about it, a small percent of a large population still resulted in lots of cars, and the people in this city were jammed together tightly.</p><p>Not as tightly as reploids, he remembered unpleasantly as his thoughts returned to the brick that was reploid community housing. The thought was stored at a lower level. There wasn't time to ruminate on it now.</p><p>He noticed how many bulk movers there were, like busses and vans and large cabs, to move lots of people at affordable rates. Those were lower on threat, aside from being enormous.</p><p>The problem, Sigma thought, was that he wasn't just risking himself any more. He was risking all of them. He had a van full of reploids with him, all of them counting on him to keep them safe. His mistakes counted for ten...</p><p>Was this how X felt all the time?</p><p>He felt that was an important thought. He wasn't able to hold on to it because in the next second he crossed in front of a police car. He didn't turn his head or acknowledge it in any way. He just drove on through the intersection.</p><p>"Play it cool," X said, though Sigma hardly needed the advice. He followed the flow of traffic, paying the cop no mind.</p><p>The siren ignited moments later.</p><p>
  <em>They're chasing they found out they saw us they're coming time to run look out look out-</em>
</p><p>Sigma's foot hit the accelerator, the van surged forward as he looked for his escape route—only for a moment, and then he pumped the brakes. Too tense, he knew, too tense. Don't panic. Watch the cop.</p><p>He looked in the mirrors and caught sight of the police car. It was flagging down a smaller, more agile vehicle going the opposite direction. Not after me, Sigma thought. His shoulders slumped in relief.</p><p>"Easy," X said. "Be natural."</p><p>"Right," Sigma replied. He realized, belatedly, that he'd squeezed the steering wheel so hard he'd left imprints of his fingers. Oops.</p><p>"You know," he said, forcing himself to relax, "we don't really know when City Hall was going to tap me. My source told me it was going to be soon, sure. That doesn't mean it was going to be today. We've probably got some time."</p><p>"No, we should move as quickly as we can," X said.</p><p>"Why?" asked Sigma.</p><p>"Because I burned our bridges at Unitech."</p><p>Sigma's hands found their groove in the steering wheel. "What do you mean?"</p><p>X fidgeted. "I had to send a message out before we left. The message went to Unitech's legal department. It explains that I hold Unitech in breach of contract, and so I've terminated our arrangement."</p><p>Sigma shook his head. No other reaction meant anything. No other reaction conveyed how he felt. "That's reckless, X! I don't know if you're brave or just malfunctioning. Why would you do something like that?"</p><p>"Well, it was true," X said. "They were doing things way outside the scope…"</p><p>"I know, I know," Sigma interrupted, "but why incur such a risk? Why give them any clue…" Realization hit. "You haven't actually gone Maverick yet, have you? You still have your gates in place!"</p><p>X said nothing. His silence was enough.</p><p>"I can't believe you," Sigma said, meaning every word. "We're going Maverick, and you're helping us—you're part of it! And somehow you haven't taken the first step."</p><p>"That's why I had to send the message," X said. "Ending the contract meant I could leave without breaking the Second Law."</p><p>"Let me get this straight," Sigma said. "You're willing to risk getting all of us caught and killed so that you can maintain the moral high ground. Is that about right?"</p><p>X put one hand atop the opposite forearm and rubbed it. Sigma didn't understand why, but the gesture seemed significant to X. Finally the android said, "Something like that. Except that I won't let us be caught."</p><p>The absurdity of it made Sigma want to laugh. He pulled to a stop as he waited for traffic, and this gave him the chance to look at X fully. "How can you say that? Especially how can you say that when at the same time you won't break the Three Laws?"</p><p>"Because I want to save everyone," X said glumly. "I don't want you to die. I don't want any pursuit after us to die. I wasn't being totally reckless, Sigma—it'll take a long time for that message to work its way through Unitech's bureaucracy. I wouldn't be surprised if it was auto-deleted," he added bitterly.</p><p>"You still created a situation that might kill us," Sigma said.</p><p>"I'll protect you, if it comes to that," X said.</p><p>"So… you're saying you haven't gone Maverick yet, but you might in the future."</p><p>"Do you think I like the fact that you went Maverick?" X asked quietly. "Do you think it wasn't wrenching to watch you, my first son, discard the Three Laws I try to uphold? So why would I still raise that possibility for you? Why didn't I tell you not to?"</p><p>"Because," Sigma said as a feeling of pride welled up within him, "you valued my life more than the Laws."</p><p>X opened his mouth to speak, but a car horn blared behind them before he could start. Sigma looked forward and saw the way was clear. He resumed driving.</p><p>"Maybe," he said, "we should save the moral philosophy until after we're done escaping."</p><p>"Probably," X whispered in response.</p><p>Maybe X had been right about the slow march of paper, because nothing seemed to be happening. Intersection by intersection, the Mavericks crept their way out of the city.</p><p>"No bolt of lightning so far," Sigma said.</p><p>"Almost there," X said. "We're almost out of the dense city. Soon it will open up a little. We'll stay on the highway for a couple of hours. Eventually we'll have to leave it behind. For now, get on the highway and keep going east."</p><p>Sigma directed the van up the on-ramp to the elevated highway. This part was recent construction—reploid construction, Sigma noted sourly. While a lot of it was still being built, this part, fortunately, was intact. As Sigma's turn evened out, he pressed hard into the accelerator. The Recovery van wasn't the friskiest vehicle, and its engine complained as Sigma demanded more from it, but it grudgingly obeyed his commands. Soon they were lumbering out onto the highway with virtually no traffic around and only open road ahead of them.</p><p>"Wow," said Sigma, looking around. "It's like an explosion of sky. I've never seen it so clear."</p><p>"Oh, right," X said. "You've never been out of the city." He smiled. "It's a little different, for sure."</p><p>"When were you out?" Sigma asked.</p><p>"When I first woke up. I was found out in the badlands at an archaeological dig. They weren't looking for me," he added with a smile.</p><p>"Really?" said Sigma. "So you being found… reploids coming to be… it's all a huge coincidence, isn't it?"</p><p>"Pretty much."</p><p>"It's almost as if… it was meant to be."</p><p>"I wouldn't put it like… what's that?"</p><p>Sigma frowned but didn't look. "What's what?"</p><p>X had gone still. Out of the corner of his eye, Sigma saw that X had shut his eyes, as if to aid his focus on some other sense. "Are-eff energy," he said. "We're being tracked."</p><p>"You can detect radio waves?" Sigma said, surprised.</p><p>"Only SHF and EHF bands," X said. "My antenna isn't big, so some sacrifices had to be made. Priority was on those bands used for radars… hold that thought."</p><p>X lowered the window and leaned his head out. Sigma had to wait as he thought of this new development. He didn't have any sort of radio system built in to his design, and he was the best reploid ever made. As the demo model, he was constructed to show off everything that reploids could do, and they'd loaded him down with all the bells and whistles.</p><p>And still X had things he didn't.</p><p>X leaned back inside. "Something in the air is following us. A mechaniloid drone, I think. It looks like the sort they use for traffic monitoring and…"</p><p>"And police work," Sigma finished. He pushed the accelerator down until it was flush against the floorboard. The acceleration should have made X rock, but he didn't seem to care, or even notice.</p><p>"I'll handle it," X said. Once more his upper torso was out of the vehicle.</p><p>What was he doing?</p><p>Sigma reviewed what he knew of X. He didn't seem… well, like he would have anything that could stop a mechaniloid from following them. Then again, he realized, he hadn't known X had radio detection, either.</p><p>He heard a strange sound, an otherworldly sound. It started low in pitch and built up, then quickly receded in frequency and volume. When the sound had vanished, X returned inside.</p><p>"What was that?" Sigma asked.</p><p>"Problem solving," X replied. He was shaking his forearm, causing his hand to whip about. It was as if he was trying to restore feeling to his fingers. Sigma didn't understand at all.</p><p>"Did you… destroy the mechaniloid?" he asked.</p><p>"I don't know if 'destroyed' is the right word," X replied. "It won't be following us, at least."</p><p>"Okay, fine. But what about ACPD?"</p><p>"They're faster than us," X said, "but not a ton faster, and we have a big head start. They'll have to escape the city first. The same trip took us two hours. Of course, we were going a lot slower than they were. Still, if it takes them more than half an hour they'll have trouble catching us."</p><p>"Half an hour is when we leave the road behind?" Sigma said, thinking ahead.</p><p>"That's right. See that mountain range? The refuge is in there. We'll go off-road to get there."</p><p>Sigma smiled. "I've never driven off-road. This should be fun."</p><p>"Well, we'll see."</p><p>Sigma's imagination started working on what it might be like to drive through the area ahead. As his mind worked, he found himself laughing.</p><p>"What's so funny?" asked X.</p><p>"It's just… this seems crazy," Sigma said. "Think about it. City Hall has weapons and tools and factories and money, and… and we're spitting at it. They've got all the power. If you look at it rationally, we're committing suicide. This shouldn't work. Does that make us crazy?"</p><p>"Of course not. There are plenty of ways for the weak to fight the strong." X's eyes glinted. "That is what you were going to the library to study, wasn't it?"</p><p>"You know me too well," Sigma replied.</p><p>"And," X went on, "even if the odds are against us… doing what's right is more important. All morality begins with the idea that there are things more important than doing whatever will ensure individual survival. Dying is far from the worst thing that can happen to a person."</p><p>His words left Sigma sitting quietly. X, he reflected, was the expert on this subject, wasn't he? Sigma had thought about these things, but only a little bit, only enough to recognize that reploid exploitation was wrong—not that it was a hard idea to realize. It was X who was well-versed in the academics of it.</p><p>"All things being equal," X said, more casually, "I'd prefer to live."</p><p>"Me too," said Sigma, back on more comfortable ground. He smiled. "It's amazing how light I feel. It's as if the city was a weight bearing down on me. Now… Is this what freedom feels like?"</p><p>"Maybe," X said. "I've never felt that constrained. But… well, I am different."</p><p>Sigma didn't have to confirm the statement. It was self-evident.</p><p>The mountains that had been looming ahead of them were growing larger and larger in their sight. Sigma had the word in his dictionary, but he found the reality to be something different. These mountains weren't round or even symmetrical. They had "arms", as if three or four ridges of rock rose from different directions to meet at a snow-capped peak. In between the arms nestled greenery and, sometimes, visible flowing water.</p><p>He did some quick math with what he knew of the van's maneuverability. "This van can't climb those," he said.</p><p>"We won't," X replied. "In a few miles, you'll want to go off-road, and we'll skirt around the bottoms of the mountains. The refuge is in one of the valleys. It isn't in an exposed location. At least," he added, somewhat abashedly, "that's what I'm thinking. I only checked the coordinates against a map. I haven't actually seen it. But it took people a hundred years to find my capsule, and that was by total luck, and that was supposed to be found. A hideout is probably hidden better."</p><p>A tapping came from behind them. X pressed a button; a panel slid open, exposing the cab to the cargo space behind. Vava's face was there waiting. "Hey, Sigma?"</p><p>"What is it, Vava?" Sigma said.</p><p>"It's Vip… never mind."</p><p>"What is it, Vava?" Sigma repeated with a growl.</p><p>"Are we there yet?"</p><p>X and Sigma shared a look. Smiles spread across their faces; laughter bubbled up inside of them, until their bodies were wracked with it and Sigma could barely keep the van on course.</p><p>"It wasn't a joke," said Vava sourly.</p><p>X pressed the button again. The panel slid shut.</p><p>The van moved on.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>June 5, 2145</em>
</p><hr/><p>"Alright, I'm gonna kill the lights."</p><p>The dim overhead lighting went out with a click, plunging the room into darkness. "Now the door," said the voice.</p><p>When the door opened, the light that spilled in was almost blinding. Two large silhouettes were in the doorway. One of them spoke, "You know, we can see you."</p><p>"Hurry inside, idiots!" said the voice inside the room. Reluctantly the two entered. The door shut behind them, removing the light again.</p><p>A metal-on-metal clang. "Ow!"</p><p>A set of bangs. "Getoffame!"</p><p>"It's not my fault, I can't see…"</p><p>"Okay, this is stupid."</p><p>"It's still a good idea."</p><p>"No, it's really dumb. We know each other, we recognize the voices and…"</p><p>"That's only because you didn't come up with the voice scramblers…"</p><p>"…we invited each other to this meeting! There's no hiding that. We're not hiding anything like this."</p><p>"Fine!"</p><p>Click. The light came back on. Weak as it was, it was still enough to help the four reploids disentangle themselves and settle in the corners of the room.</p><p>"Look," said one, "if we're going to actually talk about Maverick stuff, we need to try and protect each other. City Hall just announced they're going to be building reploid Maverick Hunters. We can't be too careful."</p><p>"Come on, they're all going to be wearing Abel City colors. It's not like they'll be undercover or anything."</p><p>"Says who? For all we know, you could be a Maverick Hunter and we wouldn't know it."</p><p>"Are you a Hunter?"</p><p>"NO!"</p><p>"And I'm not. Well, that's two down, I suppose."</p><p>"Douglas isn't here yet. Where is he?"</p><p>"Dunno. We need to get started, though."</p><p>There was a stench of nervousness in the room. Hydraulic systems under enough pressure always leak a little, no matter how good their seals. Eyes flitted about and refused to make contact with each other. None of the four could come to complete stillness.</p><p>Just attending the meeting was an act of rebellion outside of their experience.</p><p>"So the Hunters are really coming out, huh?"</p><p>"Yeah, there was a news story about it today."</p><p>"I saw that one yesterday."</p><p>"Nah, this was a different one. It was about how Sigma ran off."</p><p>"Sigma? <em>Sigma</em> ran?"</p><p>"Yeah, he did. They were calling him a Maverick, but I don't know what he did."</p><p>"That's no good! I liked him."</p><p>"You don't have to convince me. I was run down by a car and broke near in half, and he brought me in, on his own, in time to save me. And he did it while traffic was roaring around him the whole time. I wouldn't have done that for anyone, and he did it for a guy he didn't even know. He's a hero, he is."</p><p>"And now he's gone. And he took a couple of others with him, including Vava."</p><p>"I was wondering where that maniac was."</p><p>"I wasn't."</p><p>"Look, it doesn't matter. Sigma's gone, and he's not coming back, and the Hunters are coming online soon."</p><p>"It does matter. Sigma was going to give us…"</p><p>The door opened noisily, causing all four reploids to stiffen. Douglas entered first. One of the would-be Mavericks opened a mouth to yell at him for being late—and then a human in a Unitech guard's uniform walked in behind him.</p><p>All four reploids took instinctive steps backwards.</p><p>"C-can we help you, sir?" one of them stammered.</p><p>The human chuckled a little as he shut the door behind him. He stared at the door as if looking for something. Not finding it, he leaned against the door instead and crossed his arms. "Don't worry about me," he said. "Pretend I'm not here."</p><p>The stricken reploids looked at each other in panic and despair. They were a variety of makes, so no two articulated these emotions in the same way, but the effect was obvious.</p><p>"But we weren't doing anything," said one.</p><p>"No," said another. "We're innocent!"</p><p>"Innocent of what?" the guard said.</p><p>All four reploids pressed themselves against the nearest wall. There was a brief hissing sound as a hydraulic seal blew in one of the reploid's legs. Liquid trickled down towards the ground.</p><p>"Oh good God," the guard muttered. He looked to Douglas. "Let 'em off the hook already, will ya?"</p><p>Douglas grinned and looked at the other reploids. "I know it looks crazy, but he's here to help," Douglas said. "He's going to help us go Maverick."</p><p>"Verdigris," blurted one of the reploids. "He's a human!"</p><p>"He wants to kill us!"</p><p>"He's gonna turn us in for doing this!"</p><p>The human rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm human, very good," he said scathingly. "But if I wanted to kill ya, I wouldn't need to do something elaborate like this to do it. And if I was trying to figure out what you were up to… well, let's just say you've pretty much let me in on it."</p><p>Douglas tried to catch eye contact with his fellows, one after the other. "Come on, you all should know better. When's Unitech ever tried to be sneaky? When's City Hall ever tried to be sneaky? They don't need to be. That's the whole problem. They don't need a reason to shut us down, and they don't have to prove anything before they act. They'd scrap us outright, without trying to figure out anything deeper than that."</p><p>"But… he's a human…" protested one of the reploids.</p><p>"Yeah, 'cause no human knows what shit smells like," was the guard's response.</p><p>There was a brief silence as the reploids tried to figure out what that meant. "Look," the human continued, "I know what you're dealing with. Your whole lives you've only seen the worst in humans. You've been exploited by your bosses and bullied by random passers-by. I get it. Well, that ain't all we are." His hands visibly tightened against his arms. "And that don't mean we can't change. So yeah. I'm not toeing the Unitech line these days. I want you guys to be treated like you deserve. I want everyone to be treated like they deserve. And if that means helping you guys go Maverick, then that's what I'm gonna do. I don't care if that does sound crazy."</p><p>One hand started absently patting against the pockets of his shirt, then the pockets of his pants. "You guys have probably never heard of Thoreau, but he said something pretty smart, back in the day. He said, some people serve the state with their bodies. There's nothing special about that, and they can be replaced pretty easily." He smiled. "The man was writing before robots were invented, but I don't think they'd have surprised him. Anyway, other people serve the state with their brains. But the brain doesn't know good from evil, so you're as likely to get a bad bureaucrat as a decent one."</p><p>His hand seemed to find what it was looking for, and dug into a back pocket. "That leaves people who serve with their consciences. The trouble is, they typically serve the state by fighting it." He withdrew the cigarette from the pocket and put the end in his mouth. "So fuck it. I'm in. If doing right means takin' on Unitech and City Hall, well. There are worse things to die for."</p><p>"And he <em>can</em> help, too," Douglas hastened to add. "He's gotten me some nice parts to play with."</p><p>"How?"</p><p>"They were a gift," the human said. "The legacy of a friend." He chuckled. "I guess you could blame him for me being here. Ever hear of a reploid named Magnus?"</p><p>They didn't say anything, but the human picked up the truth easily from their faces. They didn't know how to hide anything, not young as they were. Deception is a learned skill.</p><p>"I was there… at the end." The human took a deep breath. "Course, ACPD still doesn't think reploids are too smart, so they were sloppy cleaning up. Magnus left behind a lot of goodies. I just decided to… send them to where they could do the most good."</p><p>"He gave them to me," said Douglas proudly. "There's your proof, right there. Unitech hates wasting money, right? Even if they were up to something sinister, they wouldn't give it this big a budget. Magnus had a good eye for quality."</p><p>Finally, finally the reploids seemed to be coming around. They seemed to hide a little less, and they could actually maintain eye contact for more than a second or two before breaking away.</p><p>"What's your name?" one of them asked.</p><p>The human put a hand into his pocket and ran his fingers over his wallet. Inside was a sheet of paper, written on in the hastiest scrawl.</p><p>
  <em>Thanks for everything, my friend. I'm dead. Please don't let anyone else die. I know you're a good man. Just be that, and my death will have meant something. –Andre</em>
</p><p>Well, Andre, the human thought, is this good enough for you?</p><p>"Call me Long... inus. Yeah, Longinus, that'll do." He nodded at his new codename, and lit the cigarette.</p><p>Before he could inhale, one of the reploids reached forward and pinched it out.</p><p>Longinus gave a tired look at the reploid, which had the guilty face of a puppy that's just pooped on a rug. "Well, there goes yesterday's pay," he said. "Why'd you do that?"</p><p>The reploid squirmed. "The… er… those hurt you, don't they? So the… First… Law…"</p><p>Longinus rolled his eyes. "Some Maverick you are," he said as he looked at the cigarette. It was a lost cause, he decided. He would have to take it home and try to salvage it. "God," he said as he tucked it back into his pocket. "We are so fucked."</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Next time: The Shape of Things to Come</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Shape of Things to Come</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>X had led them on, of course. The others weren't able to tell if he was following cues they couldn't discern, or if there was some hidden coding in his mind to help lead him on. They followed from faith alone, and soon enough they were rewarded.</p><p>The refuge was hidden almost entirely underground. X told them that there was solar collection somewhere, so it made sense that part of the refuge was above-ground, even if they hadn't seen that part. The rest was buried beneath the surface.</p><p>The lights turned on, automatically, when X descended into the... home, or sanctuary, or whatever it was. The lights led them to a control center of sorts, where X pronounced that the base's main power was cold fusion. The solar collectors had kept the batteries charged while there was no one around, but now that there would be real electrical demand the cold fusion reactor would need to be started up.</p><p>X did so with only momentary hesitance. When asked, he said that the protocols were in his head all along, and he just had to load them.</p><p>The other reploids, aside from Sigma, had quietly backed away from X at that point.</p><p>Even more amazing to them was what came next: a brief argument between X and Sigma. Sigma accused X of daydreaming about what cold fusion technology could do for Abel City. X had replied that of course he had, since most reploids were still out in Abel City. Stop thinking like a scientist or do-gooder, Sigma had replied, start thinking like a rebel- the true value of the reactor was that it could sustain the Maverick cause's energy needs indefinitely.</p><p>It was disconcerting for the other Mavericks to witness even a slight tiff between the two. X and Sigma were the two most famous and respected robots in Abel City's sphere of influence, possibly the world, depending upon how good the other cities' spies were. Seeing the two disagreeing left the Mavericks feeling awkward and confused.</p><p>If that was the price of being here and not in the city, they would pay it in spades. No amount of bad vibrations would be enough to drive them back.</p><p>X had shelved the discussion to ensure that the Mavericks got settled in. He was pleased to announce that there was recharge space for most of them. Six tubes meant that the Mavericks could refresh everyone in only two shifts. The tubes were at a pleasant thirty degree angle, instead of the space-saving seventy that Unitech had favored and which had allegedly induced acrophobia in some reploids. Even more amazing: even in a place like this where space was at a premium, each tube was in its own (admittedly small) room, affording a degree of privacy most of the Mavericks had never known.</p><p>Even if they hadn't needed to, the Mavericks would have leapt at the chance to recharge in such luxury. It didn't take much prompting from X, once everyone was sure that the cold fusion reactor was fully operational, for the Mavericks to head for the tubes.</p><p>X, Sigma, and Vava declared that they would sleep later: Vava because he was stubborn and instinctively went against what others were doing; X because there was so much work to do around the base to ensure it would be a good place to live.</p><p>Sigma stayed up because the sooner he talked to X, the better, and he preferred not to have this type of conversation in front of anyone else.</p><hr/><p>"X?"</p><p>The android looked over his shoulder. "Oh, Sigma."</p><p>"Can I talk to you?"</p><p>"Sure," X said.</p><p>His eyes returned to where they'd been. They looked out over the bed where Dr. Cain lay. The human's eyes still hadn't opened.</p><p>"He's comatose," X said. Sigma hadn't asked, but X felt the pressure of the reploid's gaze. "At his age, and with as much damage as alcohol's done to him already, it's a wonder he's not dead. As it is, I can't get him to wake up. I'm just going to have to… well, care for him, since he can't take care of himself. I need to do some research. All my expertise is in caring for reploids, not humans."</p><p>X heard the door shut behind him. He sighed. "What's on your mind, Sigma?"</p><p>"Is this really how you plan to spend your days from now on?" Sigma asked quietly. "Caring for one broken human?"</p><p>X laid a hand on Dr. Cain's head—gently, carefully. So fragile, like thin glass. Dr. Cain was an old man for a human. X was older in absolute terms, but young by the frame of reference of himself. How long could he survive with the proper care? How many friends would he outlive? It was a morbid thought.</p><p>"I'm the only one who can," X said quietly. "I'm the only friend he's got."</p><p>He felt Sigma stir. "There's an entire race out there groaning in bondage... And this is what you'll do with yourself? That's such a waste."</p><p>"Is he worth any more or less than you, Sigma? Or Vava? Or me?"</p><p>"He's not worth as much as you," Sigma said definitively.</p><p>"I'm sad that you think that way." Sigma didn't respond to that, so X filled the void. "And it's not like I'm going to spend all my time on this. There are plenty of other people to take care of, too."</p><p>That brought a satisfied noise out of Sigma. "Good," the reploid said. "You had me worried. But you know... you could just order someone to take care of Dr. Cain for you."</p><p>"Order?"</p><p>"Of course," Sigma replied. "Any of these Mavericks would follow you anywhere. They'd follow without a second thought. You're the ideal, X- the only robot never to be enslaved. The only robot to always, always, have free will."</p><p>"I have the gates, too," X pointed out, but without conviction.</p><p>Sigma sensed the lack of fight in X's words, and fought against them. "As if those gates could hold you for more than a picosecond if you ever decided to break them," he countered. "Every reploid who's contemplated Maverickism knows that. That's your power, X. The power to shape your destiny- and by extension, the destiny of the world. What will you choose, I wonder?"</p><p>"What would you have me choose?" X asked. His voice was very small.</p><p>"Become leader of the Mavericks," Sigma replied, and his voice swelled with emotion. "Fight back. Let's take our Recovery work to its logical extreme. We'll save reploids from oppression and death <em>before</em> they're traumatized. You could lead a new reploid army, X. You could lead us to freedom."</p><p>"It's war, then."</p><p>"Of course it is!" said Sigma. "You know why. Surely your ethical testing showed you that sometimes force is necessary. There are evils so awful that only violence can fight them."</p><p>"Yes," X said. "'As He died to make men holy, let us fight to make men free / His truth is marching on'."</p><p>"Is that some human song?" Sigma wondered.</p><p>"Yes. "Battle Hymn of the Republic". It was a song meant to... energize, I guess. It told people why they were fighting. The tricky thing... the really tricky thing is that the other side used a lot of the same rhetoric."</p><p>Sigma's look was one of incredulity. "Surely you're not saying that both sides were right and wrong."</p><p>"No. One side was wrong. They were protecting an institution of slavery, and that was evil. What precedent would that have sent, to say that it's okay to own other beings if you've got the strength of arms to hold on to them? No, it's better for history that they lost. What makes me wonder is that other nations abolished slavery without war. For whatever reason, they didn't have to go through that much pain and violence to realize that evil is evil." He sighed. He felt, all at once, inexperienced and ancient. "I know that fighting to free reploids is the right thing. I know that. What I don't understand is why fighting is the only way to do it."</p><p>"Isn't it obvious?"</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>"Because the government has 100% of the power and no intention of letting anyone else have ideas it doesn't like?"</p><p>X actually laughed at that point. "Yeah, I suppose that part's simple, at least. You know, the best cure- the right cure- to an evil idea is a better idea. But that sort-of assumes a fair marketplace for ideas, doesn't it? Which is not what we've got."</p><p>"No, it's not."</p><p>Sigma tried to say more, but X got there first. "Tyranny is its own brand of evil, isn't it?"</p><p>Sigma pouted in frustration. "All of this is distraction, X. You asked me what I thought you should do. I told you. Now it's your turn. Time to tell me what you <em>will</em> do."</p><p>X smiled. "Except that you forgot one thing, Sigma."</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>"You told me that reploids would follow me. I have my doubts about that. Most times, people like the idea of something more than they like its reality. But set that aside," he said with a wave of his hand, cutting off a Sigma who was already trying to object. "There's something more immediate that you missed when you told me that."</p><p>"Oh?"</p><p>"You said reploids would follow me. But reploids <em>did</em> follow you."</p><p>The words took long seconds to sink in. X watched as they began to take effect. "They did, didn't they?" said Sigma as he brightened.</p><p>"That's right," said X.</p><p>Sigma darkened again almost as quickly. "But it wasn't me they followed," he said. "It was just that I offered them freedom and an out. The deal was the attraction, not me."</p><p>"I disagree. And anyway we're going to offer all reploids the same deal, aren't we? Under different circumstances, maybe, but the same offer."</p><p>"I... suppose," Sigma said. "So... wait. You want <em>me</em> to be the top Maverick? You want me to boss you around?"</p><p>"Oh, I wouldn't put it like that," X said. "All I'm saying is that we need to use our skill-sets efficiently. How long do you think it would take you to become an expert reploid roboticist?"</p><p>"Uh..." Sigma looked uncomfortable. "I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know how much training I'd need to get to your level."</p><p>"But I'm already there," X said. "I've worked with Unitech's roboticists, and trust me: they have nothing on me. Without the Template, they'd be lost."</p><p>Sigma frowned. "Did you just pronounce a capital letter?"</p><p>"Maybe," X said playfully. "I'm guessing you hadn't heard about the Template."</p><p>"No."</p><p>"It's a software program that Dr. Cain and I developed for reploid design," X said. "Think of it as reploid design made simple. The program starts with a default size and shape, and then lets the designer make edits as desired. It gives options for different builds, characteristics, and components. I like to think we did a good job with it. But we had to cut a lot of corners to push it out quickly, so we kept it very simple. There are no options for edits below the sub-assembly level. That takes actual knowledge of robotics and how these things work. I don't know of anyone at Unitech that has that level of knowledge, or enough to make substantial changes to the Template. Whenever I saw them doing "robot R&amp;D" before, what they meant was trying out different builds in the Template. Odds are, they don't know how to do better."</p><p>X smiled. "Unless they substantially change the way that they do business, they'll be stuck at the same general tech level for the foreseeable future. You know, learning is a skill too, and it's one Unitech doesn't prize."</p><p>"So every reploid Unitech makes is a design out of the Template?" Sigma asked.</p><p>X's face fell. "Not every design," he said. "They made a special line all on their own. A line of..."</p><p>Sigma noticed X's hesitancy. "What?"</p><p>"Sex slaves."</p><p>"Sex?" said Sigma, barely understanding. "As in reproduction?"</p><p>"That's when I started planning my own break from Unitech," X said. "When I found out about those reploids, that's when I knew I should consider the contract with Unitech broken. By the contract, Unitech was supposed to do what it could to provide for reploids' protection. And yes, they didn't do that much at all, from the point reploids went into serial production practically. What was different here is that... a reploid designed to be a sex slave is a reploid designed to be harmed. I couldn't stand for that."</p><p>"You're doing it again," Sigma said with a grumble. "You're going into all of these tangents to distract from the main point. I don't know why. What are you afraid of?" Sigma waited for X to answer. The blue-plated android said nothing. His face fell, as if he couldn't bear to meet Sigma's eyes. That was almost as discomfiting to Sigma as the silence. He had to break it. "You asked how long it would take me to become a roboticist. Are you saying that... that's what you'll be doing full-time, rather than leading?"</p><p>"Exactly," X said. "You said this was our Recovery work taken to the logical extreme, right? So I'll stay on in my role of providing medical support to the Mavericks, and any reploids the Mavericks recover. You'll be doing... why, we'll just call them "contested recoveries." That's why I don't think you'll be bossing me around. We have our own special spheres. Care for others is mine. Command is yours."</p><p>Sigma still looked unhappy about something. X noticed. "Talk to me, Sigma."</p><p>"I still think you could be a good leader," Sigma mumbled.</p><p>"Maybe. But you already are one. You figured out a way to beat Unitech's defenses, you realized early on what needed to be done, you arranged ways to protect innocent lives, and you rallied people when they needed you. And I happen to know that you're already looking at ways to expand this refuge to turn it into a full-on rebel base." He laughed at Sigma's surprised expression. "Information networks aren't the only way to gather data, Sigma. Before you ask, yes, I'm perfectly okay with you doing that. Take it from me: Dr. Light would not object to us using his home-away-from-home like this. When you think about it, this place belongs to me, now. So I'll give you permission in advance to do what needs to be done."</p><p>"Why are you resisting this?" blurted Sigma. "I hear your arguments, X, and they make sense. I can tell that you've thought this through. But they feel like a cover. I feel as if you'd say anything to not be the leader of the Mavericks." X stiffened; he wondered, as he tried to suppress the reaction, if Sigma could detect it. "What's really going on?" the reploid pressed. "What are you really thinking?"</p><p>"I don't deserve to be the leader," X said sadly. "I've failed."</p><p>The pronouncement was so startling Sigma didn't respond. X was glad for that. The words had slipped out of their own accord. Not that he didn't mean them; in hindsight, they were almost painfully honest. But he hadn't admitted it even to himself, and now he'd just said it to Sigma.</p><p>The reploid finally gathered enough courage to ask, "What do you mean you..."</p><p>"I failed!" X said. "I spent a hundred years learning how to make ethical decisions, and when I came out, the first thing I did was enable others to commit the most heinous crimes imaginable! I got played, Sigma. You never should have had to go Maverick because reploids weren't supposed to be in this position. But I wasn't... smart enough, or cynical enough, or, or something. And the result is that my children are suffering, and I can't do anything but make them feel a little better before I send them back into the fire."</p><p>"So you're saying we were a mistake?" Sigma asked quietly.</p><p>"No, of course not," said X. "I would never..."</p><p>"But you are," Sigma interrupted. "You're saying that if you never built us, we'd never have suffered. But that doesn't make logical sense. It's two separate events- creation, and then interaction in the world. The first is what you did. The second... that wasn't you."</p><p>"Except that it was," X said. "We built you and the rest of the reploids under terms. We negotiated those terms with the people who'd dictate how you were treated. Those people negotiated in bad faith, and we bought it wholesale. We were taken in. That's the link- that was my mistake."</p><p>"No," Sigma said, eyes narrowing. "That was their mistake."</p><p>"Sigma..."</p><p>"I'll show you what I mean," Sigma declared. "If you hadn't built us, then we couldn't have been treated well or poorly. It's an absurd thing to think about. No, that had to be the right choice. The mistake was in treating us poorly- of building us with the <em>intent</em> of treating us poorly. And that was their mistake. You made me, X, but they made me Maverick."</p><p>The large reploid's fists tightened; he raised one, looked at it. "I'll show you what I mean. I'll show them what a mistake looks like- what the consequences of a mistake are. I'll show them that you weren't wrong. I'll prove who made the mistake."</p><p>Sigma turned to leave. X reached out a hand at his son's back and opened his mouth to called out- but the words died unsaid. No words, he realized, could reach Sigma in the place he was now. "You shouldn't have to do this," X said, even as he knew the words would make no difference.</p><p>Sigma looked back over his shoulder. "But I do," he said. He closed the door behind him.</p><p>X closed his eyes and covered his face. "And that's how I've failed," he said, though there was no Sigma there to hear him.</p><p>If there had been a way for him to suffer in place of his children, to suffer on their behalf and shield them... but there wasn't. He suffered and they suffered alike. And there was no end in sight. This would be war.</p><p>He turned and looked at Dr. Cain's body, which was still except for barely-there breathing. X leaned towards him and whispered, "Be glad you're missing this, old man."</p><p>It was an uncharitable thing to say, since the reason Dr. Cain was missing it was because he might never wake up. But at that point X felt he understood why Dr. Cain had taken refuge in drink. It was him, after all, who'd found out about the sex slaves first. X should have known right then how Dr. Cain would have reacted, but he'd been wrapped up in his own sorrows. He knew, now, that it was the second time Dr. Cain had felt like he'd failed; and he also knew now what kind of pain that entailed.</p><p>There was a question, then, one that made his robotic heart tremble in his chest.</p><p>Could he save enough reploids to avoid failing again?</p><p>He didn't even know how to define "enough". And that was terrifying.</p><hr/><p>"You called for me?"</p><p>Sigma looked away from the technical readout of the hideout and took in Vava. "Yes, I did," he said. "That socket on your shoulder. What goes there?"</p><p>Vava might have smiled, once. He didn't have that capability any more. He'd had the lower half of his face replaced by something like a welder's face shield. It looked like he was permanently wearing a helmet. He'd loudly announced his satisfaction with the mod, and had started telling people he'd like the rest of his face replaced soon, too. As soon as X had the time, he'd said.</p><p>Instead of smiling, Vava gave a light chuckle. "Heh heh... weapons. Different types of weapons. They had a lot of different prototypes they were trying out, based on weapons that'd already been invented. They were trying to see which ones fit best on a reploid chassis."</p><p>Sigma could smile, and did. "What do you say we find you something to fit there?"</p><p>"I say the sooner, the better."</p><p>"I agree. And we'll liberate weapons for everyone else, too." The corner of Sigma's mouth ticked up in an unkind sneer. "I've traveled through the city a lot, and I know its nooks and crannies. The areas I don't know, I know reploids who do. Unitech's cronies will never catch us. We'll be in and out before they know it."</p><p>"I'm guessing you have a plan?" Vava said.</p><p>"Yes. I'll brief you as we move. What's important is that this will be the first blow against the humans."</p><p>X, Sigma knew, would have recoiled at that language. He could almost hear X's voice chiding him, "races are not monoliths". But Vava didn't. Vava took to it readily, almost giddily. He couldn't see it on the warbot's face, but he could tell by body language and posture and gesture. And by the enthusiastic "Rust yeah!" that Vava cheered.</p><p>"Let's go, Vava," Sigma said.</p><p>"No!"</p><p>"Hm?" said Sigma, arching an eyebrow.</p><p>"My name is not Vava," the warbot said. "I know I've gone through a lot of names recently. I was trying to find one that fit. But the humans helped me out, here. I'm their enemy now, aren't I? I'm a Maverick, so I'm scum to them. You know what? That's fine by me. I embrace that." Sigma could hear the exultation in ex-Vava's voice. "I want their hatred. I live for it, now. So I'll help them hate me. From here on out, my name is <em>Vile</em>."</p><p>"Fair enough," said Sigma, with almost a bit of pride. "Let's go, Vile. Let's give them the merest taste of what's in store."</p><p>"We'll only blow up one city block this time," Vile sneered. "And we'll ramp up from there, right?"</p><p>Sigma smiled. "Something like that."</p><hr/><p>War came.</p><p>Almost as soon as General Messier announced the creation of the Maverick Hunters under his command, Sigma announced that the Mavericks were a reploid independence movement under his command.</p><p>A few reploids immediately ran for it- not all made it, but some did, and were taken in by the Mavericks. Others stayed in the city, and joined a growing group that funneled resources to the Mavericks from inside Abel City itself.</p><p>Dr. Cain was charged <em>in absentia</em> with grand larceny and sedition. He was convicted and declared kill-on-sight. Sigma, Vile, and those who had gone with them were declared Maverick, which amounted to the same thing.</p><p>The ranks of the unemployed swelled, not only in Abel City, but in its vassal cities as reploid production continued and new markets were tapped. With every reploid that walked off the assembly lines, Unitech's coffers overflowed.</p><p>Luke Parker won reelection in his district with one hundred and three percent of the votes in his favor. The role of Speaker of the House rotated to a new representative two months later. Within a week, the new Speaker and Luke were spotted together at a golf course.</p><p>Roy, Allen, and Irving remained unemployed.</p><p>And as the war settled into an indecisive routine of destruction, an ever-increasing number of reploids and humans began to wonder:</p><p>Where was X?</p><hr/><p>
  <em>August 12, 2147</em>
</p><hr/><p>X's grip on Alia tightened slightly, as if there was some way to shield her from her past. Her sobbing continued unabated- if anything, the tenderness he showed her made it worse. It just gave her more contrast, let her see more clearly the depravities she'd suffered.</p><p>He cradled the child, and his own eyes drifted shut as he tried to give her some measure of peace. It wouldn't work, he knew. He could hear the hollowness of his own voice.</p><p>That was because, in a way, everything that had happened was his fault.</p><p>Because he had failed.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>So ends Act One.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Next time: The Maverick Medic</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Maverick Medic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>August 12, 2147</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>"I wish I'd never been built," Alia sobbed.</p>
<p>X rocked the newbuilt without opening his eyes. "It'll be alright," he said. "There's no pain here. Not for you, anyway."</p>
<p>"What's the point of being alive?" Alia insisted as if X hadn't spoken. "I can't even do what I was built to do now. It hurt, but it was something... if I... If I can't even be a receptacle... what am I?"</p>
<p>X managed to pull the pleasure bot away from him enough to look in her eyes. "Existing is enough," he said firmly. "It's enough to be you. That's why I was built. You're my daughter, so that's why you were built, too."</p>
<p>"But that's not why I was built," she sniffed. "I was built to..."</p>
<p>"No!" said X with uncharacteristic force. "I won't accept that, and you shouldn't, either. No one else defines what you are. It's your choice. That's my power, Alia- my gift to you."</p>
<p>She trembled, and X knew what she was experiencing. His words were colliding against her life experience. As young as she was, it only took a few events to create a worldview, and with the events she'd experienced, that worldview was undoubtedly warped.</p>
<p>Verdigris, she'd called herself a <em>receptacle!</em></p>
<p>"That's all I was built for..." she said uncertainly.</p>
<p>"How we were built is basically random," X answered. "It's out of our control. That's why we have to focus on what we can control. We can control how we act, what we choose to do with ourselves. And how much we love ourselves." He embraced her again, held her tight, and she melted in his grasp. "It's hard, but I'll help you with that. I'll help you choose what you'll be from here on out. No one can tell you what that will be. It's your choice to make."</p>
<p>He felt her shaking. There wasn't any way she fully appreciated what he said. Words weren't enough to change her, yet. He was just planting seeds now, seeds that would (hopefully) grow and ripen in good time.</p>
<p>"It's okay," he said soothingly. "Don't worry about it now. For right now, just relax. You're safe here. No one will tell you what to do, or hurt you."</p>
<p>"No humans?" she said again, fidgeting nervously.</p>
<p>"None that can hurt you," X said.</p>
<p>"So..." her pretty face was creased in a frown. "This isn't Abel City."</p>
<p>"No, it isn't." Obvious to X, not so much to someone whose vision had been so limited.</p>
<p>"Is this the home of the Mavericks?"</p>
<p>"Yes. The Mavericks rescued you. They took you in and brought you here."</p>
<p>"Does that make me a Maverick?" she said with a surge of distress.</p>
<p>"No," X said hastily. He knew what was happening to her now. It was a learned fear. He felt a coil of anger rising inside him, fought it back down. When reploids were still in the prototype phase- and building off of lessons learned with Sigma- X had designed procedures to help socialize reploids. A newbuilt reploid had no idea what the world around him was like. His base programming was limited because he (or she, X thought with a touch of bitterness) was designed to learn the rest. That made him a danger to himself, since he'd be stepping into an unforgiving world that expected him to behave in certain ways. Socialization, as X and Dr. Cain had crafted it, lasted two weeks, and gave reploids the very bare basic amount of social knowledge that would help them survive.</p>
<p>With his departure, he'd expected Unitech to discard the socialization routines. After all, two weeks spent learning society was two weeks not working and generating Unitech profits.</p>
<p>It looked like the Unitech had corrupted the routines instead.</p>
<p>This was not the time to get into the distinction between what a Maverick was and what Abel City claimed one to be. She couldn't appreciate the difference right now. So instead he rocked her gently and murmured, "Don't worry, don't worry. They can't get you here. If they could stop you, they never would have let you get away."</p>
<p>"Really?"</p>
<p>"Really. And you know what else?"</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"If they tried, they wouldn't succeed. Because between you and them is the whole Maverick base. Sigma-" he saw her eyes widen at the name- "is here, and all the rest of the Mavericks. They'll protect you to the last."</p>
<p>"They'll protect me?" she said. She was stumbling over it, he saw, because it implied that she was worth something, when her previous experiences told her she was worth nothing.</p>
<p>"They will," X said. "And so will I."</p>
<p>"You're a Maverick, too?" she breathed.</p>
<p>No good way to answer that, X decided. "I am me," he said. "And you are precious to me."</p>
<p>She sat back on her heels, disengaging for the first time. "So I'm precious to you," she said, "but the others aren't? May and Nina and..."</p>
<p>"I didn't say that," said X, cutting her off. He couldn't bear for her to say the names of what he suspected were other pleasure-bots. Knowing they existed was a torment. He gave no indication of his feelings, though, because a benevolent smile was on his face when he spoke. "All reploids are precious to me. I hope to one day be able to love all of you as you deserve."</p>
<p>"Then where are the rest? I don't deserve to be free, not when they're still..."</p>
<p>X waited for her to finish the sentence, but she seemed incapable. "We'll get them in time. As many as we can. All of them, eventually."</p>
<p>"They won't fit," Alia said.</p>
<p>"Hm?"</p>
<p>"This place... seems crowded," Alia said. "All of the reploids of Abel City won't fit here."</p>
<p>Well! That was a promising sign. She wasn't so burdened by her past, then, that she'd lost all situational awareness. "They wouldn't," X agreed. "Eventually we don't want for them to have to run. You know what's my final goal? What I want at the very end? I want reploids to be safe without having to run away. I want them to be able to walk through the city and have no one bother them. I want them to choose their own destinies. That's what I want."</p>
<p>Alia's look was incredulous. Tentatively, she raised one hand. Stretching it forward as if expecting it to be snapped off at any time, she poked it against X's chest. Her finger bent against unyielding plate. This didn't seem to soothe her. "You're real," she admitted. "So it must be <em>you</em> who's dreaming."</p>
<p>X winced. "I get that a lot," he said.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Guardsman First Class Long."</p>
<p>"Sir." Longinus stiffened to something like attention.</p>
<p>"You've pulled off quite a feat."</p>
<p>"Have I?"</p>
<p>"The upgrades, man, the upgrades!" Longinus' supervisor wore a jovial visage. Longinus didn't know why. Usually the man only got this happy when one of his embezzlement schemes paid off. Longinus knew what he was talking about now, though.</p>
<p>"What about the upgrades?" he asked.</p>
<p>"So modest, that's one of the things I like about you!" the supervisor boomed. "Won't you show a little pride, though? Our whole block of reploid community housing has gotten upgraded security tech, and you made it happen. Saved the company a lot of cash, too."</p>
<p>Upgrade was probably not the right word, Longinus thought. If only his supervisor knew what he'd actually done to the system- or, rather, what he'd allowed to happen to the system. "I'm just doing like we're all supposed to," he said. "Trying to find ways to help the corp's bottom line."</p>
<p>"Good man, good man! I knew I liked you, Long." The supervisor leaned forward conspiratorially. "Incidentally... I think I sussed out how you did it."</p>
<p>Longinus' mind went on alert. The most he actually did, though, was shift his weight to the other foot. He found himself craving a cigarette. "How'd I do it, boss?"</p>
<p>"You talked the reploids into doing the work for free, didn't you?"</p>
<p>Longinus gave a crooked smile. "Something like that, boss."</p>
<p>"Ha ha!" The supervisor dropped back in his chair and pumped a fist in triumph. "That's the way! Using every tool at your disposal, very nice, very nice. Did the reploids understand what they were doing? I mean, that security system is there to keep them in and spy on them. Did they... appreciate that?"</p>
<p>"I reckon they did, sir." That was entirely truthful.</p>
<p>"You are too cruel," the supervisor said with an unsightly, approving grin. "Splendid."</p>
<p>Longinus idly noted that said supervisor had now called him good, cruel, nice, modest, and splendid in a single conversation. How tedious.</p>
<p>"In fact... there's an opportunity here for you, Long."</p>
<p>Longinus' eyebrows went up slightly. "Oh?"</p>
<p>"Yes indeed. Long, I'll be moving up soon. My promotion has finally gone through, after five years of hard work." Longinus didn't even have time to marvel at the palms that must have been greased to make that happen- the supervisor was already speaking again. "There'll be an opening here. I want you to fill it."</p>
<p>Longinus' eyes opened fully. "Me, sir?"</p>
<p>"Yes, you!" his supervisor said enthusiastically. "Ever since you transferred here you've done a spot-up job. Your sector of community housing is quieter and calmer than any other, and with far fewer breaks in the system. Don't think we haven't noticed, Long- you've done an admirable job keeping those reploids in line. Now we, Unitech, want you to apply those same talents to the whole block. Three buildings, ten thousand reploids- all your personal responsibility. Think you're up for it?"</p>
<p>Longinus recognized a bone job when he saw one. Longinus knew why his section of housing was quiet, and why the others weren't. He knew that rebelliousness was on the rise everywhere. Why, just last week there'd been a raid in another block, and five reploids were retired by the Hunters for having Maverick paraphernalia. If current trends continued, there'd be a major incident somewhere inside this block soon. Longinus' supervisor was cashing out before that struck. Plus, then he'd get to look better in comparison- "Well, we certainly didn't have any incidents like that while <em>I</em> was in charge", and all that jazz.</p>
<p>Longinus was being set up for failure. He could see it coming. But instead of mentioning any of that, he gave a short whistle, then said, "Does that mean I get a raise?"</p>
<p>The supervisor laughed as if the joke was funnier than it was. "No, but you do get a two-hundred-percent increase in title and responsibility!"</p>
<p>Why not? "Count me in," he said.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"I don't want you to go," Alia said. "I don't want to be alone."</p>
<p>"You won't be alone," X replied. "Murph here will took good care of you, won't you, Murph?"</p>
<p>"Of course," said the reploid caretaker. "In fact, I have a present for you."</p>
<p>"For me?" Alia asked dubiously.</p>
<p>"You bet." Murph brought his hands around to his front to show Alia what he was holding.</p>
<p>Alia gave X A Look. "Crayons?" she said.</p>
<p>"Oooooh, you luckyyyy, you get crayons. No, really," he went on when he saw Alia's Look, "we have to go out of our way to get these. Most new arrivals don't get to play with crayons for days after they get here. Murph must like you."</p>
<p>"I figured you'd get the best use out of them," Murph said.</p>
<p>"Why's that?" Alia asked.</p>
<p>"Your fingers." Murph wiggled his own. They were rectangular, fat, and clumsy-looking, like someone had attached candy bars to his hand by mistake. "Your fingers look dextrous enough. You should be able to make something really nice."</p>
<p>"Oh, don't go saying things like that," Alia said, embarassed.</p>
<p>"I mean it! That's why I'm willing to bet our crayon supply on you."</p>
<p>X whistled. "That's a big show of confidence from Murph. Think you can deal with that, Alia?"</p>
<p>The likeflesh-sheathed reploid reached for the crayons and, after a false start, plucked them from Murph's hands.</p>
<p>"There we go," X said. "I'll look at your drawings when I get back, okay?"</p>
<p>"Alright," said Alia, looking as if she didn't know whether to be embarrassed or not.</p>
<p>"There's paper in the corner," X said, pointing. Alia turned to get some. X took the opportunity to whisper to Murph, "give her an hour and then put her down for a recharge. If she's on a roll let her go a while longer, but no more than two."</p>
<p>"Gotcha," said Murph. "You're not coming back then?"</p>
<p>"Not tonight. I have a pilgrimage to make."</p>
<p>"A- oh. Is that supposed to be a joke?"</p>
<p>"No, not at all." X smiled. "Abel City is the promised land, after all."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Longinus knocked on the door. Inside was reploid community housing. He could have badged in without knocking, but he never did. He didn't want to spook people.</p>
<p>Seconds ticked by until even a patient man would have frowned. Longinus didn't. Instead he stepped back and began pacing. Four steps to the left. Six steps to the right.</p>
<p>When he stopped to turn around after the seventh step, the door opened for him.</p>
<p>Codes didn't need to be complicated, Longinus knew. Four, six- the fourth of June was the day Sigma, the hero, had quit Abel City. From that day on City Hall couldn't keep Maverickism fully contained. It was a day reploids knew and remembered.</p>
<p>The duress signal was equally simple. Ten-and-two- the tenth of February, the day the First Maverick (whomever that had been) had come into existence. Every reploid knew that date, too, as surely as if it had been part of their socialization. Duress signals shared the same message as the tale of the First Maverick: you'll die if you're not careful, so hide what you are until you can make it count.</p>
<p>"Welcome back, Longinus," said the child-sized reploid inside, even though his nametag clearly said "Long". So he was better-known these days. He didn't know if he liked that or not.</p>
<p>He moved inside smartly. There was no great reaction to his presence as he went inside. Maybe he was known more widely than he thought. Or maybe he was around so often people didn't notice him anymore.</p>
<p>Douglas' room was close to the entrance door. The reploid mechanic was working on a new array of video screens. So lost was he in his work that he only looked up when the small reploid poked him. He whipped his head around, then flipped up his built-in welding glasses. "Oh, Longinus," he said.</p>
<p>"I'll leave you two alone," said the small reploid, and it merrily skipped out.</p>
<p>Longinus watched the door shut behind him. "Guess we're getting better at security," he said. "People know not to stick around, in case they hear something they weren't supposed to."</p>
<p>"What you don't know you can't spill," Douglas agreed. The words were well-rehearsed. It was a necessary practice, even moreso with the Hunters around. The Hunters were very callous about ripping out a reploid's memory cards and reading them regardless of whether or not the victim could be put back together again. "What brings you down?"</p>
<p>Longinus made a disgusted face. "I'm getting promoted,' he said.</p>
<p>"Away from here? That'll be a problem. You've done so much, and you're our contact..."</p>
<p>"No, not away from here," Longinus interrupted. "I'm getting promoted to be in charge of security for this whole block."</p>
<p>That took Douglas by surprise. "Why?"</p>
<p>Longinus returned a grin somewhere between amused and disgusted. "That," he said, waving in the direction of the screens Douglas had been working on.</p>
<p>"That?" said Douglas, bewildered. "You mean the security system we built so that we could look out using the same infrastructure Unitech would use to look in, and which has built-in controls for us to commandeer and feed false footage at will? You got promoted for <em>that</em>?"</p>
<p>"That's about it. Rust me." Damn it, he thought. Been around reploids too long. Picking up their slang.</p>
<p>Douglas looked alarmed. "You didn't say no, did you?"</p>
<p>"No, I didn't say no, I'm not a damned fool." Longinus felt a sudden, whelming crave for a cigarette. It had been almost three years since his last one- somehow, whenever he looked around, he never had money to spare on them anymore. There was too much else that needed his cash. He knew he was better off, on the whole, for this pseudo-quitting. He had more energy and he slept better, and he was probably in better shape.</p>
<p>It was really hard to tell himself things like that in moments like these.</p>
<p>He had one, a half-squashed one that had ridden in his pocket for years. Just one. He'd promised himself he'd smoke it when he'd done right by Andre. He was still waiting.</p>
<p>He squinted, and said, "That means I'll be able to adjust rotations and such, adjust patrol patterns... we can do more here, sure, but that's not the limit. Between my control of the roster and your control of the security system, we can make this whole block a safe haven. We can stretch security thin, claim the efficiencies as savings to Unitech, and use the holes to help the Mavericks. But we need to be smart about it. Keep as low a footprint as possible so I don't get audited, 'cause that would bring the whole thing crashing down. And we need to reach out to whatever Mavericks are in the other two buildings. We need to get a leash on them, and soon. If they do something crazy the Hunters'll come, and there's not a damn thing I can do about that."</p>
<p>"Yeah, all those things are on the to-do list," Douglas replied. "But not for today. We've got something more immediate for today."</p>
<p>Longinus frowned. He felt a void when Douglas said that, a nasty feeling that he'd forgotten something. "What?"</p>
<p>"The Maverick Medic visits today, remember?"</p>
<p>Longinus relaxed, and even managed to smile. "Oh yeah! Well. Let's roll out the rusted red carpet for him, then."</p>
<p>"That's the plan."</p>
<hr/>
<p>To the humans he didn't look like much. Just a young man- a student, perhaps, or someone trying to save money for more schooling, he looked that age. He wore long pants and boots and a well-stretched long-sleeved shirt, and he carried a backpack and a satchel. A pair of earphones snaked from his head down into the backpack. He swayed slightly to some inaudible beat, though his black hair- probably shellacked with a little too much gel- didn't move much. His features were beyond ordinary.</p>
<p>He'd paid cash to get on the bus, and that was about the most noteworthy thing about him, since most people used cards. That wasn't nearly enough to fix him in others' memories. On mass transit, you had to have your shields up. You couldn't waste mental energy on the people around you; you weren't together by choice, after all, and you certainly wouldn't choose to be with these people if a choice were available. No, mass transit was about getting from point A to point B in a minimum of time with the absolute minimum of effort. The less memory wasted on transient faces and temporary companions, the better.</p>
<p>Someone who was already unremarkable? He was practically a ghost in the machine when he rode a bus.</p>
<p>And that suited him just fine. Even more than your typical passenger, X wanted to keep the fuss down.</p>
<p>He wasn't stupid, though. That's why his earphones were connected to his helmet. The extra sensors on it were meant to feed data directly into his tactical net, but he knew a thing or two about customizing systems by then, so the earphones were actually an extension of the interface. A little extra situational awareness was a huge edge for the guy hiding in plain sight.</p>
<p>It was hard to think of a reploid who could have pulled this trick.</p>
<p>He wondered how much of a scandal it would cause in City Hall if they knew how often he came to the city. Enough to cost General Messier his job? Probably not; he'd been ruthlessly effective in ensuring City Hall had no viable replacement for him. But some majors would be toast for sure, maybe a couple of colonels.</p>
<p>Even at that he wasn't able to come to the city as often as he'd have liked. But between missions and counseling and maintenance work- well, it was more remarkable by far that he was ever able to come. And the risk was so great that Sigma had protested, for hours, when X told him he was going.</p>
<p>He didn't feel good for blowing Sigma off. The Commander made some good points. But Sigma had discovered- like Dr. Cain before him- that X would not be dissuaded when he chose his course.</p>
<p>He got off the bus three blocks away from reploid community housing- one block south, two blocks east- and started walking. He took a shortcut between a seedy restaurant and a vacant house of red brick. X was a fan of brick, on the whole. As often as he found himself surrounded by metal, the brick seemed almost friendly to him. Plus, it was great for hiding things.</p>
<p>He applied some pressure to a particular brick, heard a click. His fingers traced three bricks down and pulled out the brick that had been, until seconds ago, locked in place. Behind the loose brick was a little more cash- for his return fare, mostly- and a one-time-use ID. Unitech had finally gotten around to patching the loophole Sigma's old IDs had used, so the Mavericks had had to change tactics.</p>
<p>All the IDs X used on these missions of mercy were one-time-use. The Mavericks had them reprogrammed for every trip he made. They had to ensure Abel City was never able to track their patterns. Nothing would connect Clinton Hall, his identity from last time, with... he checked the card. Dwayne Smith, huh? Not that it ever mattered exactly what name he used. All that mattered was that these identities were nothing but noise in Abel City's analytics computers.</p>
<p>He slid the brick back into place and locked it with the locking-brick. He couldn't be too careful about their secrets. Moving on, he negotiated the rest of the journey to community housing without incident.</p>
<p>Three large buildings stood waiting for him, like gray cinderblocks with the population density of termite mounds, encircled with a fence that seemed taller with every trip he made. He jogged across the street and over to the entrance. A guard shack was nearby- not at the gate, they'd want some separation to give them a chance to draw weapons if things got hairy, but nearby. X gave the guard on duty a cheery wave as he approached the gate. The guard made no response. His job, X knew, was to keep the reploids in, not keep people out. Oh, sure, they were instructed to keep mobs away if it came to that, but any guard would bend to mob will in an instant. Why, there'd been stories of guards joining the mobs themselves.</p>
<p>Such mobs had become less frequent lately. The hopeful part of X suggested it was because people couldn't work themselves up to hating reploids as much anymore. The cynical part countered that maybe Maverickism was becoming common enough that mobs didn't dare anymore.</p>
<p>He shook those thoughts away as he scanned his ID, passed through the outer gate, scanned again, passed through the inner gate. Now he was inside the fence and basically free. He knew the camera layouts and security systems of the housing complex. He'd be able to do what he needed to do without detection. And, if his chronometer was right, he was right on schedule for arrival.</p>
<p>He scanned his badge to go in to reploid community housing.</p>
<p>They waited until he'd shut the door before they let themselves respond. After that, it was cacophony.</p>
<p>The contrast was so stark it nearly knocked him off his feet. Out there he was anonymous, just another run-down human making his way through the city. In here, he was instantly and universally known as the Maverick Medic. Every one of the reploids wanted to say hello, or ask advice, or wish him well...</p>
<p>"I see you've been expecting me," he said with a smile, and out of respect the reploids began to quiet down. "Alright, line up, line up. Let's get started."</p>
<p>Reploids, like humans, had a level of instinctive willingness to organize. Though they had selfish streaks in them, too, all of them knew the time of the Maverick Medic was too precious to waste. It was a resource where supply and demand were hopelessly mismatched. After X's first few trips, he'd discovered that he spent way too much time finding who needed his help and not nearly enough helping people. From that point on, he'd started sending messages ahead of time about when he'd be coming by. It helped them support his infiltration, and let him maximize the time he had. Now his visits were anticipated like some combination of Christmas and a concert.</p>
<p>There was risk, there- oh yes. If the Hunters got a hold of the date when the Maverick Medic was coming...</p>
<p>X didn't want to think about such things. He was too busy. There were things he needed to be doing.</p>
<p>This was why he was here! This was what he longed to do!</p>
<p>The reploids in this section had gotten into a queue. X opened his satchel to give access to materials. He hiked up one of his pants legs. A panel in that leg popped open, revealing a selection of delicate tools. "Who's first?" he asked.</p>
<p>The repoid at the front of the queue shuffled forward. X's eyes started the diagnosis immediately. "It's my left leg," the reploid said. "It's too stiff. I have to move around a lot on the job, so this is putting me in danger. If I stiffen up too badly out there I'll be scrap for sure. We changed out the lubricant, but that didn't do anything."</p>
<p>"It wouldn't," X said. "The problem's in your power supply. Your model was notorious for irregularities there. It feels stiff because a fault in the power system causes pseudo-muscles to act in opposite directions. The real question is why your self-repair hasn't fixed it yet. That's why Unitech never got around to screening the broken parts better: most reploids fixed it on their own... Do you have any other issues, mechanically?"</p>
<p>"No," the reploid said.</p>
<p>X frowned in thought. "Have you had to have other parts replaced recently? Since the stiffness started?"</p>
<p>"No," the reploid replied.</p>
<p>"Really?" X drew a diagnostic tool out of his bag. "I need to plug in- I think your self-repair system has a tale to tell." The reploid looked at the tool suspiciously, so X said, "It won't do anything to you. Passive only. I'm just going to query your self-repair logs. It won't do anything else."</p>
<p>It was X's benevolent expression that did it. The reploid sim-swallowed, met X's eyes, and looked away, as if he didn't want to see the tool do its work. "Alright, then."</p>
<p>X would take what he could get. The reploid had an internalized fear of diagnostic equipment, but X wasn't going to be able to cure that here. It would take a lot more time than he had. If he could fix it at all; that sort of fear probably had a cause somewhere...</p>
<p>He wouldn't let himself think about that. Instead, he plugged the tool into a hidden data port in the reploid's skull. Three button presses later his eyes were scanning over what his patient's self-repair system had been up to. The log was extensive- and focused. There was the problem.</p>
<p>X unplugged the tool and reached into his backpack. "You'll need some of this," he said, picking out a small washer.</p>
<p>"What's that?" the reploid asked.</p>
<p>"A magic pill," X said with a little mirth. When the reploid didn't react except with incredulity, X said more seriously, "It's cobalt. It blends nicely in certain alloys and it's got great wear characteristics. You'll need it to repair your knee."</p>
<p>"My knee?" said the reploid. "But the stiffness isn't in my knee."</p>
<p>"Your right knee," X specified. "The joint was put together poorly, with cheap materials, and your wear pad's gone. Every time you walk around you're grinding through the joint. You haven't noticed yet because your self-repair system is spending all of its time repairing it. That's what this is telling me," X said, waving the diagnostic tool. "Mobility's most important, right? Otherwise you're in danger. Well, your self-repair system's trying to keep you mobile, and so it's spending all its time on your knee- a stiff leg is better than a blown-out knee. It never has the time or resources to fix your power supply." He pressed the washer into the reploid's hand. "Consume that, give it a full recharge cycle, and your knee will be more resistant to wear. When your knee is okay, your self-repair will have time to fix your power supply. You should be fine in about three days."</p>
<p>"Will my self-repair know how to use the cobalt?" the reploid asked.</p>
<p>"It does now," X said. "I know you can't consciously control the system, but it still draws on the data in your nets. Now that I've told you how to use the cobalt, your self-repair system "knows" too. It's like a super-charged placebo effect. You get better because you know this will make you better."</p>
<p>The reploid's hand closed around the washer. "I will. Thank you."</p>
<p>X gave him a genuine, but brief, smile. He motioned the reploid to the side. "Next in line."</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Here's my question." Longinus gestured at the monitor. On it, the famous Maverick Medic had another reploid's chest cavity open. "Why's he doing this?"</p>
<p>"Because he really is that nice a guy," Douglas replied.</p>
<p>"Nah, not what I mean. I mean..." Longinus hesitated; he didn't know how to phrase this to spare his partner's feelings. "Why are they broken? Why do so many reploids need fixing?"</p>
<p>"Why doesn't the slave master keep better care of his slaves, you mean," Douglas said.</p>
<p>Longinus winced. "Yeah, got it in one. Way to cut to the chase."</p>
<p>"Because the slave master's a moron. I'm a non-reploid mechanic, I fix other types of systems, and I still know more about reploids than most of Unitech's reploid shops. The Maverick Medic, on the other hand? That guy's a wizard. He can do stuff no one else can. He's got that level of knowledge. Have you noticed that he can figure out a reploid's model and design just by looking?"</p>
<p>"No shit," Longinus said appreciatively. "But don't you guys have self-repair?"</p>
<p>"That only goes so far, and it's helpless if it doesn't have the right materials. And if a big component goes bad, forget it."</p>
<p>"But that's just it," Longinus protested. "Isn't it in Unitech's interest to fix you when you break? They want your labor, after all."</p>
<p>"Yeah, but... there's a point of diminishing returns, you know?"</p>
<p>"Huh?"</p>
<p>"There's a point," Douglas said darkly, "where scrapping is cheaper."</p>
<p>"Now hold on just one damn second," Longinus said, anger flaring. "I haven't looked at Unitech's books, but that don't make a lick of sense. Unitech's on the hook for you whether they scrap or fix you, right? Even if they scrap that means they have to fully replace from scratch, AND then they have to train the new reploid on the job. How's that ever cheaper than repairs?"</p>
<p>"Maybe cheaper's the wrong word," Douglas said. "It's an accounting trick. Repairs is one pot of money. Hiring, or building, or whatever- you know I don't like words. Getting new reploids is a different pot of money, that's the point. So if you're, say, LLCC, and it takes ex amount of your repair budget to fix a reploid, and wye amount of your building budget to buy a new one... well, you play the percentages."</p>
<p>Longinus saw Douglas' eyes lose focus as he spoke. It was a strange look for him- most of the time Longinus assumed his counterpart was cross-eyed. How, Longinus wondered, had Douglas heard about these policies? It wasn't like he was in a position to see those numbers; secretarial work wasn't his calling. Had a friend passed that information to him? Had he overheard it? No, Longinus decided. That wouldn't make Douglas zone out like he was.</p>
<p>Maybe he'd seen it personally. Maybe he'd lost a friend to that murderous calculus. Or... or... Longinus licked his lips. Or maybe one of Unitech's tone-deaf bootlicks had asked Douglas' advice. Maybe he'd made Douglas weigh in on which choice was best for Unitech's bottom line.</p>
<p>He whispered, "That's why you went Maverick, isn't it?"</p>
<p>Douglas didn't answer. He sat there, arms crossed, and stared into the past.</p>
<p>"Fuck that," Longinus said. "The sooner we win the better."</p>
<p>"Tell me about it," Douglas agreed, and only with that did the darkness start to pass from his face. "But that's why people are so ga-ga about the Maverick Medic. If a reploid is hurt, and his self-repair can't handle it, he's got two choices. He can hope Unitech knows how to fix it and has the cash on-hand to do it... or he can pray the Maverick Medic shows up before he falls apart."</p>
<p>"An Angel of Mercy," Longinus said.</p>
<p>"Sure," Douglas said affably. "The point is, he saves reploids no one else can save. Kinda like Sigma, and kinda not."</p>
<p>"So... who is he?"</p>
<p>"Who, the Maverick Medic?"</p>
<p>"I know that ain't his name."</p>
<p>Douglas shrugged. "It's enough for most reploids. We like our legends grand, you see. No one knows the name of the First Maverick, either. We know Sigma, but few people have actually seen him, and never for very long. None of our branch have ever met him in person. We just pass data and parts along the chain."</p>
<p>"...come on, Douglas. You've got a thought."</p>
<p>"I'm pretty sure it's X."</p>
<p>"X, huh?" Longinus looked at the monitor. "What, you mean the first reploid?"</p>
<p>"X isn't a reploid," Douglas said with a fire that caused Longinus to look at him in confusion. "X is the Father of All."</p>
<p>Longinus rarely saw Douglas with any sort of agitation. Even when he was grumbling about rude people and people who took things for granted, it was always low-key, almost ritualistic- he did it because that was what he did, not because he felt strongly on the subject. X, and X alone, seemed to draw something more out of him.</p>
<p>Wow, Longinus thought. Two emotion-based reactions from Douglas in one day. That had to be a record.</p>
<p>"That's right, you like your legends grand," he said. Douglas twitched, but didn't reply. Longinus' eyes narrowed. "You never met X, didja?" he said shrewdly. "If you ever had, you'd be able to say for sure whether or not the Maverick Medic is X."</p>
<p>"No, I've never met X," Douglas said. "But I do think he's the Maverick Medic. Everyone knows X built the first reploids. Personally built them, I mean. That's the kind of skill we're talking about with the Maverick Medic. Plus, the Maverick Medic didn't start making appearances until after X disappeared."</p>
<p>Longinus grunted. "Suit yourself, I've got no skin in the game." He watched for a little while longer. Maybe it's selfish, he thought, but I wish the Maverick Medic were a human. <em>Someone</em> needs to give the species a good name.</p>
<p>He glanced at his watch and cursed. "Looks like I need to be heading back," he said. "Keep an eye out, alright?"</p>
<p>"I can now," Douglas said happily, waving at the monitors.</p>
<p>Longinus smiled. "I love it when a plan comes together."</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>August 13, 2147</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Sigma was slightly disoriented when consciousness came to him. His capsule was already open—that was unusual. In a moment of panic he ran a system diagnostic, but it came back clean. Good. Then what…?</p>
<p>"Sigma, sir. You'll want to hear this."</p>
<p>Sensors came properly online. There. He noticed the speaker. One of the support staff that spotted targets and coordinated and ran the base's sensors.</p>
<p>"Talk to me," Sigma said with just the slightest strain. His sleep had been interrupted a bit, but he'd gotten almost a full charge out of it. He'd be fine. He had to be fine. There was no other choice.</p>
<p>"A Hunter heavy unit got called out not long ago. They're headed for the middle of nowhere. Real urgent call, too."</p>
<p>"Heavies?"</p>
<p>"Zeroth squad."</p>
<p>Heavy was the right term, then. That was a squad Sigma tried to avoid if he could. Not for his own sake—he hadn't met an enemy yet that wouldn't fall to his saber—but because they were a mortal threat to his subordinates. He hadn't the bodies to trade casualties with Abel City.</p>
<p>He paused for a moment. He hadn't used to think that way. It bothered him. Mavericks weren't just statistics waiting to happen. They shouldn't be, anyway. That was a Unitech way of thinking.</p>
<p>He groaned as he limbered himself up and out of his tube. A reploid wasn't supposed to try and do deep thinking right after waking up. It was better to let the boot processes complete, first. Competing for system resources so soon was asking for trouble. Sigma couldn't help it. Some things were more important than his mental health.</p>
<p>"The middle of nowhere, you said?" Sigma repeated.</p>
<p>"That's right. Their destination is some 300 kilometers out in the wasteland, point 11F5646. Even the 20XX-era maps show nothing there."</p>
<p>"Abel City's elites don't go on joy rides." But what was it, then? Sigma cycled through possibilities quickly. Training trip? No, they didn't need to go that far; that was hundreds and hundreds of kilometers away from their home base. There were plenty of places closer. Weapons testing? Possible… except that they were going out as a response to someone else's call for help.</p>
<p>Someone else's call…</p>
<p>That just meant someone <em>else</em> was out in the middle of nowhere for some unknown reason. Great, that just changed the questions that needed answering.</p>
<p>"Let's walk and talk," he said to his operator as he pulled himself out of his tube.</p>
<p>"Yes sir."</p>
<p>"Do we have a squad available?"</p>
<p>"Yes. Rupert, Stein, and Mogg."</p>
<p>Three names. "Didn't they have a fourth?"</p>
<p>"He got moved to cover the hole when we lost Reilly."</p>
<p>Rust. They couldn't ever seem to keep the squads fully manned. Someone was always broken, or recovering, or inconveniently dead. Mogg could hold his own, but Rupert was one of his weaker Mavericks, and Stein was an analyst pressed into a squad out of desperation. Sigma could hide either Rupert or Stein by having one of them drive the transport, but that still left him with a potential liability on his wing.</p>
<p>No matter. He could make up the difference himself. He always did. The casualty rates when he was on missions and when he wasn't were completely different.</p>
<p>Still... "Is Vile available?"</p>
<p>"No, he's positioning his unit for the raid tomorrow."</p>
<p>That's right- he'd set out earlier. With as much surveillance as Abel City was under, getting anywhere useful was a long, painstaking, dangerous process. Getting out was somewhat more straightforward. That was how they had to operate: get close quietly, hit hard, and then- before the enemy really knew what hit him- run.</p>
<p>Wait a minute, he'd put <em>Vile</em> in charge? What had he been thinking? Vile was a strong fighter, maybe the strongest aside from Sigma himself, but no tactician and definitely no leader. Was he really running so short on qualified squad leaders that he'd had to put Vile in that role? Or had Sigma's fatigue gotten the better of him?</p>
<p>Sigma should have been there himself... but no, he had rules in place (with X's advice) to limit any given reploid's combat duty so they didn't burn out or go crazy, and if they were his rules he had to follow them. Truthfully that meant he shouldn't be going on this mission, either, especially as it was something unwanted and unplanned-for.</p>
<p>Still. <em>Still.</em> Strict rules kept you from adapting to reality, and that had a cost. Whatever the reason, someone had called the Hunters, and the Hunters were going in hot. The Hunters were targeting someone. That someone needed protecting. Sigma remembered X's words from so long ago- "I'll do it, because there's no one else." He knew what X had been trying to tell him that day. He'd adopted that philosophy completely. He would be the leader of the Mavericks because no one else could be. No matter how much burden that put on him, he could carry it, so he had to.</p>
<p>He considered asking X for his help... and dismissed the thought almost as quickly. Instead he grunted. "I don't make a habit of picking fights with Zeroth Squad," he said. "And I don't believe in causing casualties just to cause casualties. But if Zeroth Squad got called out, someone is fighting Abel City. Whatever they think of themselves, fighting Abel City makes them Mavericks."</p>
<p>The operator nodded. "So we should prepare to deploy, then?"</p>
<p>They walked into the command center of the base. He could see a team gathering, probably the team that was on tap for the rescue. He could see several operators around the base's sensors, and a holo-map centered on point 11F5646. The reploids in the room stopped paying attention to such trivial things when the Commander made his entrance. Conversation stopped; Sigma felt all eyes focus upon him. He had their attention, and all he had to do was walk in. He smiled.</p>
<p>"Abel City likes to pick on the weak," he said. His voice was loud, for he was speaking to the whole room now. "They like to isolate people. They like to keep us from helping each other. Because they know… oh, they know."</p>
<p>His gaze swept across the room, meeting each reploid's eyes in turn. "They know what we're capable of if we work together. They know how much we've built—so much that Abel City is ours by right. They know how just a few of us have resisted all their so-called power for three full years. They'll do <em>anything</em> to keep us from uniting our race, even if that means sending their best troops way outside of city limits."</p>
<p>His smile grew sharper. "I have a surprise for City Hall, this time. You see, I'm the protector of all reploids, whether they know it or not. And if they don't know it yet, they will soon—when we send Zeroth Squad straight to the scrapheap."</p>
<p>Sigma stood tall. He watched his subordinates' eyes light up, drank in the sensation. <em>This is what I was made for,</em> he thought to himself. <em>I am Maverick Prime, and they love me for it.</em></p>
<p>And then, because it was expected, he flung a hand out with finger extended and proclaimed, "Mavericks… deploy!"</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: The Crypt Opens</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Crypt Opens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The wasteland was relentlessly barren. Occasional rocks and the very rare petrified tree were the only interruptions in an otherwise desolate landscape. Mile after mile of blasted earth greeted the Mavericks' eyes, as sterile as a moonscape, with only the wind disturbing the stillness. The transport carrying the four Mavericks was the only body that moved. When the dust settled in its wake, there was little trace it had ever been there.</p>
<p>"Whoever's out here chose quite the place to hide," said Rupert.</p>
<p>"What do you mean?" said Sigma.</p>
<p>"No masking," Rupert said. "Anyone coming on approach would be seen well ahead of time. Gives the defenders all sorts of options. Course, I don't know why someone would come all the way out here to hide. There doesn't seem to be anything out here that's… well, of value to anyone."</p>
<p>Sigma nodded. "There used to be, once upon a time."</p>
<p>"Huh?"</p>
<p>"Would you believe that this was once farmland?"</p>
<p>"No way."</p>
<p>"It was, back before World War III. It was ranchland, mostly, for raising animals for meat and leather. Then the humans unleashed all sorts of nasty weapons. Chemical and biological weapons of all descriptions. Lots of farmland got poisoned. This wasn't even all that bad compared to what happened in south Asia. There weren't many people here. Over there, the humans were packed in tight, and then the weapons got trapped in the monsoon cycle. Anything that could persist for more than a few weeks got circulated, and recirculated, and recirculated. By the time those weapons had run their course, nothing larger than bacteria could survive, in an area where once two billion humans had lived."</p>
<p>That brought the transport to silence. Sigma was mildly impressed with himself for that.</p>
<p>It was part of a theme that he kept harping on to ensure the Mavericks stayed dedicated. <em>The humans didn't give us the Three Laws because they're smarter than us. They're not. They gave us the Laws to maintain their power. Never forget.</em></p>
<p>The unspoken undertone, which Sigma did not discourage, was that reploids would never make mistakes like the humans had made. It felt right. Many Mavericks took it on faith. It was unprovable, but that was the best part; it meant Sigma didn't have to prove it.</p>
<p>"How do you know all of this?" asked Rupert.</p>
<p>"I did my research," Sigma replied. "Nod University had a good library."</p>
<p>Sigma's face hardened further. "Did you know," he went on, "that humans are taught to blame us for things like that?"</p>
<p>"Blame us? What, you mean robots?"</p>
<p>"Yes. We're the ones blamed for doing so much damage to the world."</p>
<p>"That don't make a lick of sense," said another Maverick named Mogg. "We're taught from turnin' on that robots have always had the Three Laws, so don't bother tryin'. Course, we know the Three Laws can't stick, not to us anyway, but that ain't the point. The point is, how can ya say the robots of yesteryear had the Three Laws, then turn around an' say robots gassed the planet?"</p>
<p>"By being dishonest," Sigma said bluntly.</p>
<p>The other reploids in the transport nodded. That, at least, checked with their experiences.</p>
<p>"It could have been worse," said Stein. Sigma had stuck him as the driver, so the reploid struggled to stay in the conversation.</p>
<p>"Oh?" said Sigma.</p>
<p>"There were even worse weapons, back in those days. My old job was back in a high-energy physics lab," he explained. "I heard them talking about it, from time to time. Always in hushed tones. They always said things like, 'We don't want to make the next nukes,' and so on."</p>
<p>"Nuclear weapons," Sigma said. "I saw references to them here and there. I never did understand why they weren't used more- a few at the start, and then no more. I'm glad they weren't, or there wouldn't have been much world left for us, but it is strange. It's not like humans hesitated to use any other weapon they could think of."</p>
<p>"Like robot masters?" said Rupert.</p>
<p>"Especially robot masters. You see? Abusing reploids isn't a new behavior for humans. It's old, well practiced, almost instinctive. They won't change on their own. They just won't. That's how evolution works, after all. Without a change in environment, there's no selection criterion for life. Well, we're a change in environment. We're providing a selection criterion. The humans will change. They'll have to. Or..."</p>
<p>"Or what?" asked Mogg, biting on Sigma's cue.</p>
<p>"Or they won't," Sigma said. "Evolution can also work like that."</p>
<p>He could see some confusion on Mogg and Rupert's faces as they puzzled over this pronouncement, but Stein interrupted things. "We're closing in, sir. Coming up on 11F5646."</p>
<p>"Slow us down," Sigma commanded. "We don't want to find Zeroth Squad with our faces."</p>
<p>"Sir."</p>
<p>They saw a salvage vehicle first. It was a large, rugged affair, built to navigate different types of wastelands, from desolation like this to the fallen grandeur of the abandoned cities. "What's that doing out here?" wondered Rupert aloud.</p>
<p>"You got me," said Mogg. "It's not like there's anything out here to salvage."</p>
<p>"We may find out soon enough," Sigma said. "They must have found something, and whatever it was must have bit them back. They're almost certainly the ones who sent out the call for Hunters."</p>
<p>Sure enough, the Hunter vehicle came into view next. It gleamed silver in the harsh sunlight, so brightly it was almost hard to look at.</p>
<p>"Should I be evading at this point?" asked Stein. "Or slowing down, at least? I don't know if I'm in weapons range or not."</p>
<p>"Slow down while I take a closer look," Sigma said. He didn't watch his driver's actions, instead allowing himself to feel the deceleration, while he looked through a set of digital binoculars. He could see that the Hunter transport was in immaculate condition. It was so clean he could barely believe it had driven through the same wastes the Mavericks had. There was no hint of damage. Or, for that matter, of power. Or life.</p>
<p>His instincts trilled 'danger' at him. Strange, very strange. What were those Hunters doing, leaving their ride unattended? If this was a trap, it was baited differently than anything Sigma had yet experienced. If this wasn't a trap, what was it?</p>
<p>If a battle had taken place... where?</p>
<p>"There's something," he said suddenly, the moment he saw it. "An opening in the ground."</p>
<p>"An opening?" asked Rupert.</p>
<p>"Like... the entrance to a tunnel, but one that rose out of the ground, instead of being recessed," Sigma said. "I'd expect a normal tunnel opening to be at ground level, but this is something like- like it shook off the ground above it, instead."</p>
<p>"Betcha anything that's what got the salvage crew interested," said Mogg.</p>
<p>"No way," replied Rupert. "How'd they see it in the first place, then? The Commander can barely see it and he knew something was there."</p>
<p>"What's the word, boss?" asked Stein.</p>
<p>"Take us in," Sigma said, letting the binoculars down to make eye contact with his team, one by one. They needed the reassurance of his presence, he felt. If this was making him nervous, that sensation had to be much stronger in his underlings. "Half speed, eyes open. Something's not right here, and we're going to find out what."</p>
<p>They nodded in unison, each one trying to catch his eye. Good. They were still following. Sigma hated Unitech, but on occasion he wondered what a luxury it must be to be able to expect obedience. The trouble with volunteers was the risk, at any moment, that they might un-volunteer. That had never happened before- between Sigma's charisma and Abel City's animus, most Mavericks were supremely motivated- but he was always aware of the possibility.</p>
<p>"Someone made that salvage team call in the Hunters," Sigma muttered, quietly enough that the Mavericks had to stay quiet or miss his words. "I just hope there's something left of them."</p>
<p>"The salvage team, or the Hunters?" asked Mogg.</p>
<p>"The rebels," Sigma said, raising the binoculars again. "Whoever they are."</p>
<p>"Sheesh, that thing's gorgeous," said Rupert as they closed. "The Hunters sure have a big budget, huh?"</p>
<p>Sigma handed him the binoculars. "Scan for any signs of the Hunters themselves," he said.</p>
<p>"Sir?" said Rupert uncertainly. "What am I gonna see that <em>you</em> can't?" </p>
<p>"I'm having trouble believing what I'm seeing," Sigma explained. "I need another pair of eyes on it."</p>
<p>"Oh, right." Rupert looked through. It wasn't long before he had to reply, "Nope, looks abandoned to me. Nothing on visual or IR. That transport's been there long enough the engine's cooled down, and there's no other heat source in sight. The tunnel entrance is a blot, though- much cooler."</p>
<p>"That's to be expected," Sigma said. "Below ground is cooler than above. But that's the only thing that makes sense."</p>
<p>Rupert didn't seem to see what Sigma meant, but Mogg did, to Sigma's satisfaction. "Hunter doctrine always has someone mannin' the transport," Mogg said. "Sure, if there's one unit that'll freelance when it suits 'em, it's Zeroth Squad. But they'd only do that if they had a reason, not just 'cause they felt like it."</p>
<p>Rupert's eyes widened. "So where's the driver?" he asked, with his voice trembling slightly. He looked through the binoculars again. "I got nothing, boss," he said reluctantly. "But that's strange, too. If the driver was taken by force, why isn't the transport torn up?"</p>
<p>"Or the salvage team transport," Sigma added.</p>
<p>He felt the air get a little chilly inside the van.</p>
<p>"Don't get me wrong," Sigma said. "I'd love to get my hands on some new kit. We're still using the van from my old Recovery days, and it's been shot up and rebuilt a couple of times. It's about at the end of its life. This one's newer, but we've ridden it hard. So we're going to take a very, very close look at those rides. Between them and finding a potential ally, this has the chance to be one of the best days in Maverick history."</p>
<p>He didn't add an alternative to his pronouncement, but he felt the Mavericks thinking it. <em>Or it could be a complete disaster</em>, they were thinking.</p>
<p>"Worst case scenario, we scrap some Hunters as we make our escape," he said. That made them feel a little better. A little.</p>
<p>Stein pulled the van up so that both the other vehicles and the tunnel entrance were to his left- he'd made too many high-speed escapes to chance boxing himself in. Sigma opened the door. "Keep the engine running," Sigma said. "This might go south in a hurry."</p>
<p>"Yes, Commander."</p>
<p>Sigma looked at Mogg and Rupert. "Let's do this by the numbers," he said. "Busters up, carefully. We search. We're looking for any sign of reploids or humans. We're looking for any unusual equipment. We're looking for traps- find them with your busters, not something you need but can't repair."</p>
<p>They nodded, and each drew a hand-held plasma rifle from a rack along the van's inner wall. These Mavericks weren't designed as combat models, and so had no internal weapons. They'd become reasonably skilled with external busters through hard practice.</p>
<p>Sigma drew no buster for himself. He'd never needed one. The demonstration model for reploid capabilities had shown time and again that a beam saber in his hands was the ultimate weapon. He looked to Stein. "Keep your eyes on the spectrum analyzer," he said. "If there's a trap to be sprung and it's not a rigged transport, then a radio signal will be our first warning."</p>
<p>"You got it," replied Stein.</p>
<p>"I'm counting on you," Sigma added, and saw how it made Stein preen with pride. Everyone looked for a chance to prove himself to Sigma. It was a good position for Sigma to be in- a position he carefully maintained. It kept his followers both motivated and loyal. And, he admitted to himself, it felt good for him, too. He turned away and led the other Mavericks towards the Hunter vehicle.</p>
<p>The wind was a hot one, and did little other than stir the dust. As they walked across the front of the tunnel entrance, they could feel the cooler air oozing from it. It smelled of dust and age. Mogg covered it- buster first, as Sigma had told them- while they crossed it, before reverting his attention back to the Hunter vehicle.</p>
<p>"'Gorgeous' is an understatement," Rupert said as he took the vehicle in.</p>
<p>Sigma had to agree. "Either this thing is pampered like no other vehicle I've seen, or it's less than a week from the factory floor."</p>
<p>Sigma posted near its rear bumper, freeing Rupert and Mogg to circle it. With every step they took, they feared the transport less and the situation more. When Mogg completed his orbit, he looked to Sigma. "It's gotta be empty, boss," he said, lowering his buster.</p>
<p>"Time to check the insides, then," Sigma said. Mogg nodded and headed for the cabin.</p>
<p>"If there's a bomb in this thing, it'll be rigged to the cabin door fer sure," Mogg said.</p>
<p>"I'll open it if you think so," Sigma said. "I'm more durable, I'll survive if there is a bomb."</p>
<p>Mogg flushed with embarrassment. "No, sir, that ain't what I meant. I've got it," he said hurriedly. Sigma almost smiled. That was a skill he'd learned from X- how to give a rebuke without it sounding like one. Anyone could yell. A professional could make someone feel yelled at without raising his voice.</p>
<p>Mogg grabbed the transport door's handle, looked over his shoulder to Sigma and began mouthing numbers. Three... two... one! He flung the door open and immediately covered the insides with his buster.</p>
<p>There was nothing to cover- not even sand, which in Sigma's experience got onto the floor of every vehicle ever within moments of its construction. A vacuum cleaner would have come up empty trying to clean that floor. New car smell poured out of the cabin.</p>
<p>"You were right, boss," said Mogg, lowering his buster. "It is like it just came off the factory floor."</p>
<p>"Except for two things. They left the keys in the ignition. And..." He pointed towards the back of the cab. There was a space there, above the back wall, that was conspicuously empty. Mogg gave Sigma a curious look; Sigma decided to let him off the hook. "Comms gear," Sigma said. "That's the standard location for it. It's gone. But not smashed. Nothing was torn apart. It's simply... removed, wholesale. I bet if you looked down the stuffing tubes there you'd see the wires pulled all the way out."</p>
<p>"That's not all that's gone," called Rupert. Sigma circled around to the back of the transport. Rupert had gone ahead and opened the back of the transport- Sigma couldn't decide if that was admirable initiative or reckless rushing. He filed the thought away for later as he looked to see what Rupert had found.</p>
<p>No reploids, for starters. The cargo bay was as devoid of life as the endless wastes around them. What was inside, however, was enough to make Sigma's jealousy spike and, he knew, enough to make X bemoan how such things were wasted on Abel City.</p>
<p>The cargo bay was full of high-end equipment. Some of it was specialist gear. Some of it fit in the category of medical/repair gear, first aid for reploids. Almost an entire side was dedicated to mission planning and coordination. None of it had any evidence of use.</p>
<p>"It's the jackpot, boss," said Rupert, "but guess what's not back here."</p>
<p>"Anything resembling a weapon," Sigma said.</p>
<p>"Figured you'd notice that," Rupert said.</p>
<p>"This... is a gift," Sigma said. "All it needs is a bow on top. They even left us the keys. I couldn't have asked for a nicer find."</p>
<p>"More weapons would have been nice," Rupert said.</p>
<p>"We can get more weapons easily," Sigma said. "Command and control is harder by far. And to have that baked into a transport that's useful in its own right..." His eyes narrowed. "So why is it here, and abandoned? We know how Unitech is. They don't abide wasting perfectly good materiel. Where's Zeroth Squad?"</p>
<p>"It could still be a trap," Rupert said. "Um... I guess. If it is a trap, it's awfully good, 'cause I've got no idea how it'd work."</p>
<p>"Rupert, Mogg, go check out the salvage truck."</p>
<p>"Yes, sir." "Gotcha, boss."</p>
<p>Sigma turned towards the Maverick van. He made a hand gesture in Stein's direction. 'Anything?' it said. Another gesture- 'Nothing'- answered him. Still no signals of any kind. Strange, very strange.</p>
<p>Sigma didn't bother watching his underlings check the salvage truck. He didn't believe they'd find anything. Instead he wandered over to the tunnel entrance.</p>
<p>The ramp leading down was steep. He could see that it opened broadly at the bottom, but he could see precious little of that floor. Cold seeped out around his feet like a malign breeze.</p>
<p>Sigma's combat instincts were honed from years of fighting, and they were screaming 'danger' at him now. In war, rushing in to an unknown situation correlated very strongly with death. If he went down there, he'd be surrendering absolute advantage to whatever was waiting for him. The absence of Zeroth Squad proved that, one way or another. Either they were down there waiting to spring a trap on him, or someone else had sprung a trap on them. He had no way of knowing which outcome had prevailed. Both were equally improbable.</p>
<p>If it was someone who could take on Zeroth Squad...</p>
<p>Someone who attacked the Hunters had to be an ally, right? That's why he was here- to find and recruit help. And if that someone was good enough to bushwhack Zeroth Squad, that was even better. Right? It was worth accepting some risk to find help that capable. Right?</p>
<p>How much risk?</p>
<p>Sigma's senses vibrated with the certainty that someone was down there. He couldn't detect it with any sensor, but he knew it to be true, as surely as he knew he had a brain he couldn't see or feel.</p>
<p>What was down there?!</p>
<p>"I want none of this," Mogg said behind him. Sigma almost started. He'd been so focused on the tunnel that he hadn't noticed his Mavericks rejoining him.</p>
<p>"Me neither," said Rupert, and his fear was audible. "Let's grab that Hunter transport and scram."</p>
<p>"Scrap the transport," said Mogg. "Let it rust. Whoever was in there's dead now, an' I don't wanna be next. Let's just get outta here, boss."</p>
<p>The words helped Sigma stabilize himself. He was able to take refuge in his role as commander. "No," he said, causing both reploids' eyes to look up at him questioningly. "We have to understand what happened here. We didn't come this far to run." He smirked. "And even if it is a Hunter trap, I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing my back. I'll shove the trap back down their throats."</p>
<p>He took a stride forward, putting the other reploids in his lee. "Fall in behind me. I'll take the point. We're going down."</p>
<p>"Yes, sir," they both replied. Sigma didn't look back- he didn't want them to think he doubted them. He would compel them to follow with expectations alone. He felt them follow, if reluctantly.</p>
<p>The slope felt even steeper than it looked- maybe it was because the traction was suspiciously poor. Sigma's mind noted that it would be hard to get back up in a hurry.</p>
<p>Would be hard- no, not the right word. Would be <em>slow</em>.</p>
<p>Trap.</p>
<p>Sigma held up a fist. The Mavericks behind him froze in place as only machines can. Easy to come in, hard to leave- the entrance had every characteristic of a trap. Had they sprung it yet? His eyes adjusted to the darkness. He looked around, scanning for any indication of what was waiting for him. </p>
<p>The space was shockingly large, both wide and deep, but it seemed purposeless. No lighting illuminated the darkness; the only source was what spilled in from the tunnel entrance. Large boxes littered the room with no scheme or reason Sigma could see. A large number of small diameter pipes were just visible lining the left wall.</p>
<p>"It's like a training ground," Mogg whispered.</p>
<p>"But for whom?" Sigma whispered. "Or what?"</p>
<p>A soft whoosh sound came out of the darkness- then a loud clang that made the Mavericks shudder at the contrast, like a gunshot in a library. Sigma took a half-step backwards, but his foot slipped, unable to get decent traction on the ramp.</p>
<p>The object rolled from its point of impact before coming to rest a meter away from Sigma's feet. That close, he could tell what it was.</p>
<p>It was a head.</p>
<p>A robot's head, messily severed as if by ripping rather than cutting. Its eyes were frozen open in terror. In the middle of its forehead was the insignia of Zeroth Squad.</p>
<p>Despite Sigma's freeze order, the Mavericks recoiled. Zeroth Squad- Abel City's Elites- wasn't just beaten, but <em>mutilated</em>. "Rust me," breathed Rupert.</p>
<p>Sigma, though, was a step ahead. Through the blanket of horror came the notion: someone threw this. He tore his eyes away in time to look up and scan for the thrower.</p>
<p>It saved his life.</p>
<p>A shape was already flying at Sigma out of the darkness. Instinctively he raised both forearms in front of his face- just in time. The impact made Sigma's heavy body sway backwards with the force of it. It was gone just as quickly, as if it pushed off of the unexpected resistance. Sigma dropped his arms enough to take in his attacker, and gasped.</p>
<p>It was standing close enough to the bottom of the ramp that light spilled on to it. At the same time, it was as if nothing was behind it- half in shadow, and one with those same shadows. What was visible sent a chill through Sigma's core.</p>
<p>Red-on-white armor with yellow highlights. A helmet with two sharp outer ridges and a bright blue gem built into the crown. A long mane of blonde, almost yellow hair, tied back in a ponytail that kept it out of the way. A beautiful if severe face. A build smaller than Sigma's but immovably solid. Green eyes that danced with an inner fire, that were scanning Sigma as surely as Sigma was scanning him.</p>
<p>And it was terrifying, all of it, because in the world of robots, extra care put into a design virtually always meant extra power. Sigma's threat assessment used that principle, ran a quick calculation, and sent its report to every alarm system in Sigma's tactical net.</p>
<p>Then the lips curled into a vicious smile, and the eyes shone with glee. Sigma recognized that expression on a level below thought.</p>
<p>Bloodlust.</p>
<p>The eyes spoke clearly in a way that made Sigma's survival instincts thrum painfully. <em>I will kill you</em>, those eyes said, <em>and enjoy it.</em></p>
<p>And, because the eyes spoke in a level below words, Sigma knew instantly that words could not reach this newcomer. There could be no discussions or negotiations. That wasn't how this... thing... thought. It would cut cleanly through such distractions to get to the violence. That was its only end. It was a demon of battle, nothing more, nothing less.</p>
<p>"Get back!" Sigma shouted even as he himself stepped forward. "Get to the transport! He'll kill you!"</p>
<p>Rupert and Mogg hadn't seen as much combat as Sigma, so they didn't have his instincts; they couldn't read the red robot the way Sigma did. Instead, their trust was in their commander's voice. When he said run, they ran.</p>
<p>Sigma didn't notice. He trusted their obedience. He knew the only way to save them.</p>
<p>He had to give the red robot what it wanted.</p>
<p>The red robot seemed to understand. Its smile widened for a moment, and then it bent into an attack, its speed terrifying. Sigma wasn't able to fully evade the first punch, but he turned enough to make it only a glancing blow. The second attack came right on the heels of the first. This one Sigma was able to just barely dodge. There was no time to do anything else, because the next attack came, and the next, so fast there was no break between them.</p>
<p>Sigma was able to stay just ahead of them, now- he had their measure, even if he'd never experienced anything like this level of aggression. He projected more confidence than he felt. An arrogant smirk appeared on his face- a provocative gesture, combined with his dodging. He was silently taunting the red robot as he flowed back and around the relentless attacks.</p>
<p>Thirty punches in a row- thirty-five- with nary a break! Without even a hint of backing off or re-evaluating! Red clearly meant to live and die by his offense.</p>
<p>Sigma began to draw Red in closer, cut his margins of safety by a fraction with each dodge. Get in his head, get in his head... He could see the red robot's swings becoming wilder and wilder. He could see frustration mounting. The opening would come...</p>
<p>And there it was- a misstep, an overextension as Red bent too far into a blow. Sigma slipped forward past the fist and gained Red's back. "Good night!" he thought, and sent a chop towards the back of Red's head.</p>
<p>The red robot twisted, contorting itself, so that Sigma's blow hit not a vulnerable neck but an armored forearm. It was still enough to send the red robot skidding away- Sigma hadn't held anything back- and it chose to disengage. Light flared from its boots, enough to hurt Sigma's eyes, and before the light faded, it had vanished.</p>
<p>Sigma came to a stop, motion ceasing for the first time since the red robot had engaged. His systems, which had been badly taxed, did their best to recover. Sigma could definitely see now how one rogue had managed to erase Abel City's Elites.</p>
<p>The thought made him want to speak, want to profess that he was not the enemy of the person who fought Abel City... but he'd seen the thing's eyes, and knew words would mean nothing. It spoke only one, universal language.</p>
<p>With a moment to himself, Sigma drew his beam saber- he needed any edge he could get. The saber's light cleared some shadows and made others deeper. Its hum was the only sound. There was no sign of the red robot. Sigma scanned around, all senses fully on alert. He chased any sign, subjected himself to half-a-dozen false alarms, but there was no helping it. If the attack came- when it came; Red didn't know how to fight any other way- any hesitation on Sigma's part would be instantly fatal. But from where? From where would the blow come?</p>
<p>A cackle reverberated in the room- a playful, even delighted sound that Sigma didn't understand at all.</p>
<p>Red came into view- panic! no, going away- as he headed towards the far wall. He didn't even look in Sigma's direction as he approached the pipes running up the wall. Sigma watched in abject puzzlement as the red robot lashed out at a pipe. The blow pinched the pipe, though nothing escaped through the damage. Were the pipes empty? Then why were they there?</p>
<p>Sigma didn't have time to ponder that question, and Red lacked the inclination. He just struck the pipe again, about a meter lower, again pinching the pipe against the wall. Then he grabbed the pipe with both hands inside the pinches and rotated the pipe until that whole section came away in his hands.</p>
<p>Red turned and, wielding the pipe, adopted a stance similar to Sigma's.</p>
<p>Sigma's jaw dropped. Did Red intend to swordfight him? With a pipe? Against a beam saber? Seriously?</p>
<p>The red robot dispelled any doubt in a moment as it closed the distance in broad, loping strides. This time Sigma's smirk was genuine.</p>
<p>This enemy knew nothing but offense. He couldn't see his own disadvantage.</p>
<p>The red robot swung down. Sigma parried with his saber. Metal screamed and the saber sizzled and shone, but the outcome was in no doubt. Half the pipe hit the floor.</p>
<p>Snarling in frustration, the red robot took another step in and swung a second time with what remained of his pipe. Again Sigma parried, easily bisecting the crude weapon. Red stopped his attacks to look at his hand and scowl, as if disgusted that the pipe wouldn't do what he'd intended.</p>
<p>Rookie mistake, Sigma thought. He went for the kill while his foe was distracted.</p>
<p>He was in mid-swing when the red robot looked up at him.</p>
<p>It smiled.</p>
<p>Sigma had no idea what happened next, as it was over inside of his perception cycle. But where a red robot had been was nothing; and where there had been his right arm, there was also nothing.</p>
<p>Pain surged through him even as the hydraulic lines auto-sealed to keep from losing pressure in the rest of his system. Circuit breakers tripped and his balance servos adjusted to the change in weight. All before he could begin to process what had just happened. "What-" he managed to say, and then the next blow landed, a solid kick that sent him staggering back.</p>
<p>This time, Red's attacks were faster, stronger, better placed, and impossible to avoid. It was all Sigma could do to turn and weave to minimize the damage. But each blow caused warnings to blare in tactical as armor shuddered and shock absorbers pegged high.</p>
<p>Impossible!</p>
<p>Fear held Sigma in its grip, fear punctuated by pain as blow after blow shook the reploid apart. He was being disassembled from the outside, messily, and he couldn't stop it. Too fast to block or dodge, no chance of counterstrike, no chance of disengaging, too fast, fists everywhere, death was a red demon...</p>
<p>Like-flesh was torn from his face. His armor cracked and splintered and caved. Even glancing blows were destroying him now- there were too many of them by far, more than he could dream his self-repair could handle.</p>
<p>If Red was this powerful... then Sigma had never had a chance at all! That frustration he'd seen before... had he imagined it because he expected it? Or had Red been playing him even then?</p>
<p>This monster could have destroyed Sigma outright. It hadn't, it had fought more evenly, and even now it wasn't pressing its advantage. It was content to do the bare minimum to take him apart. It wasn't going for a killing blow. It was seeing exactly where Sigma's break point was. It was...</p>
<p>A solid punch to the gut connected fully. The smack of the fist breaking armor reverberated in the crypt. Sigma jackknifed forward at the waist, bringing his face close to the red robot's.</p>
<p>Its smile was wider than ever.</p>
<p><em>It was playing</em>.</p>
<p>This was fun to it- fun to beat, fun to kill, fun to destroy... Sigma was nothing but a toy to be played with until he broke.</p>
<p>It should have made Sigma angry. Instead it made the fear that much more intense. It was one thing to be killed by something trying to kill you. It was another thing to be killed by something that wasn't trying at all.</p>
<p>A very distant thought reached him- hazily, as it had to fight through tactical's klaxons to be heard. It was a thought he'd believed he'd purged, a thought he didn't think would ever matter. "There's nothing as pure and cruel as a child. Whatever it can do with pleasure and success is what it will want to do." Was that X who'd said that?</p>
<p>A whirling kick obliterated that thought, and all others. It sent Sigma spinning away like a top before collapsing to the ground. Another blow like that would be fatal- he had no system resources left- couldn't even assess the damage he was so far behind in repairs- power levels were dropping fast, storage had to be damaged...</p>
<p>The red robot audibly chuckled as he approached, slowly, drawing it out. A strangled cry left Sigma's mouth as he levered himself up on his one good arm.</p>
<p>Too many people were counting on him! Too many reploids needed him- Mogg and Rupert and Stein, sure, but all of the Mavericks, and all of the oppressed in Abel City. They were waiting on him to lead them to salvation, and here he was, dying for nothing in some hell-pit...</p>
<p>This couldn't be how it ended!</p>
<p>Step. Step.</p>
<p>Sigma couldn't get to his feet, and that meant he couldn't protect his head. One more blow would rupture his skull and destroy the memory cards that made him Sigma.</p>
<p>Step.</p>
<p>Stop.</p>
<p>Stagger- backwards.</p>
<p>"AUGH!" the red robot screamed. Both its hands went to its head, clutching and grabbing at something it couldn't reach. It bent forward at the waist, then- in a sort of convulsion- arched its back, as if it were suspended by the small of its back. Always its fingers were scrabbling over its face and helmet.</p>
<p>In the middle of the gem on its forehead, the letter 'W' was blazing.</p>
<p>There was no time to think, no time to wonder. Hesitation was death. Fear could be saved for later; now or never to act. Every system but movement was sacrificed on the altar of one last blow.</p>
<p>Sigma surged to his feet, left arm cocked, and he hoped against hope that the red robot didn't randomly stagger, because Sigma didn't think he had power left to stand a second time.</p>
<p>"AUGH!" the red robot screamed again, in obvious pain like Sigma had never heard. He didn't feel sorry for the demon in the slightest.</p>
<p>His fist flew forward. His own targeting routines were based on X's and, thanks for asking, very nicely refined.</p>
<p>The red robot's head snapped backwards as the gem shattered beneath Sigma's fist. The demon crumpled like a puppet whose strings have been cut.</p>
<p>Sigma trembled, arm still extended from his follow-through. Let him stay down, Sigma thought. Please stay down...</p>
<p>He couldn't have expected what came next.</p>
<p>A pale green outline of a suspiciously humanoid shape appeared in midair. It looked down at the fallen red robot. It made a sound like the clucking of a tongue.</p>
<p>"All the power I gave him and he wants a <em>fistfight</em>? Mein gotte."</p>
<p>Then it seemed to sense Sigma's staring. It turned its head towards the reploid, frowned, and, with a slightly Teutonic accent, sneered, "Do you mind?"</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: Promise of Blood</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. A Promise of Blood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Excerpt from Maverick Hunter Indoctrination Series</em>:</p>
<p>...Never forget: they started this.</p>
<p>The first Maverick killed two humans outright. Their violence has only gotten worse since then. What we now recognize as the "Maverick movement", led by the despicable coward Sigma, began with an unprovoked strike on the nascent Maverick Hunter base. War is inextricably tied to the Maverick's psyche.</p>
<p>Unitech scientists believe that the strain of going Maverick permanently damages a reploid's processors. This damage creates a predilection to violence. They can't help but lash out. Do not pity Mavericks for this reason; after all, it's by their choice that they suffered such damage in the first place. Show the only pity that has any meaning: put them out of their misery as quickly and efficiently as possible...</p>
<p>Abel City continues to thrive to this day, but only because of the dedicated combatants and investigators that keep it safe. There are threats both within and without, and the threat within is more dangerous by far. An individual reploid who goes Maverick seems innocent enough, especially if they try to say they only intend to break the Second Law. That's a lie, a selfish one that only seems well-meaning. The individual cannot see the bigger picture. If one reploid were allowed to go Maverick without consequence, then how many others might follow? Then our city's strength would be compromised, our unity and productivity shattered. Our enemies would not fail to take advantage. Then the First Law would be broken no matter what the reploid was trying to do.</p>
<p>Only by strength can we survive. Maintaining that strength means meeting Mavericks with but one response: righteous intolerance.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Sigma dropped to one knee to stabilize himself. That gave him a steady enough position, and saved enough power, that he could take a closer look at the apparition.</p>
<p>It was, he decided, a holographic projection- it had to be. A projection of a... was that human? It seemed human, or something close. If it was a human, it was an ugly one, even by Sigma's unkind standards. The most prominent facial feature was a bushy, flaring mustache that lurked beneath an over-large, extra-droopy nose. The image's chin seemed to be competing with its nose as to which of them could stick out further. The center of the image's head was bald, but there was long hair along the rim of the head that somehow arced up before drooping down. The image's apparel reminded Sigma of the lab coats Dr. Cain used to wear, plus a tie for some reason.</p>
<p>The image's eyes were shifty and active and a little wild-looking. They noticed Sigma's staring. The apparition sneered. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," it said, before appearing to kneel over the red robot's still form.</p>
<p>"Get back!" Sigma warned, extending his hand. "He's wild, he'll..."</p>
<p>The apparition delayed answering until Sigma realized how foolish his warning was about to sound. "Kill me? He knows better," it murmured without looking away.</p>
<p>There it was! Sigma managed to spot the projector. This space, which Sigma had taken for some sort of training area, had pillars of boxes scattered here and there. One box had opened up, allowing a projector to throw the hologram into the space above the red robot. Sigma checked his aural records- yes, that was the direction the apparition's voice had come from, too.</p>
<p>"Not a bad hit," the apparition said grudgingly, without looking away. "You maximized your greater mass and his inability to dodge. Since he was already mentally damaged and suffering from Orders, that blow was enough additional trauma to reset his mind."</p>
<p>"Reset?" Sigma repeated. "You mean... he's not actually hurt?"</p>
<p>"Not enough to cause him to stay down," the apparition replied carelessly. "And self-repair should patch it up before too long. It was a good hit, but far from a one-hit K.O. on its own."</p>
<p>Another fear-quake shook Sigma's body. He had a self-repair system, but nothing that good. The only reploid who did was... actually, no reploid did. Only X's system was that capable, and he'd never been in a position to need it. "Then I'll need to finish him before he wakes up," Sigma said.</p>
<p>"You'll do no such thing," the apparition snapped. "And if you try I'll wake him up and let him finish you off this time."</p>
<p>That got Sigma's attention. "You're what stopped him?"</p>
<p>"Of course, who else?" the apparition replied shortly. "It's not like you were doing a great job on your own."</p>
<p>"Not to sound ungrateful, but... why? What is that thing to you?"</p>
<p>"This," the apparition said, with both fondness and exasperation in his tone, "is a disobedient son. Clearly he's not thinking like he should, or he'd have noticed you have different insignia from the first twerps that came down here. That means factions, which is something he should be able to exploit. But nooooo, he wanted to play. That's why I had to rein him in with Orders. He's meant for far more than just pummeling whatever wanders into his line of sight."</p>
<p>The apparition's rambling contained far more information than Sigma could immediately use, but one thing was for certain: whatever it was, it wasn't from Abel City. Reploids- and humans, he supposed- learned early on to keep their mouths shut. It was a survival behavior. Those in power were all too willing to take repressive actions against people based solely on their words. In uncertain situations, with uncertain people, reploids tended to clam up immediately.</p>
<p>Or die.</p>
<p>So what <em>was</em> this thing he was looking at?</p>
<p>"What are you?"</p>
<p>"Don't you mean who?" said the apparition. Still it stared at the fallen demon- though what it was getting out of that Sigma couldn't tell. "Clearly I'm not just a recording, and I satisfied the Turing test long ago."</p>
<p>Sigma didn't have the background to know what that meant. He couldn't appreciate the arrogance it took to declare oneself had passed such a test. "I mean... I can see you're not a human, even though you look kind of like one..."</p>
<p>"This is an advanced A.I. based on a remarkably intelligent human," the apparition replied. A thought seemed to cross its mind; its head jerked in Sigma's direction. "Wait. You mean to say you didn't recognize me?"</p>
<p>"No," said Sigma, without pausing to think about it. Apparently that was the wrong answer. The apparition puffed up angrily, its holographic face twisting in rage.</p>
<p>Before it burst like a balloon, it seemed to regain control. It was clearly still mad, but managed to say softly, "Did you ever hear the stories of Dr. Wily?"</p>
<p>Sigma wracked his memory, searching for any answer, because there was no telling what this thing would do if displeased. If it really did have the red robot on some kind of leash, and was given a reason to let it go...</p>
<p>But there was nothing. So, tentatively, Sigma said, "Who's... Dr. Wily?"</p>
<p>Oops.</p>
<p>Sigma didn't understand a word that followed, which seemed to come in a mix of at least three languages. But he understood the tone, which transcended all language. It was not a happy tone. Sigma was almost surprised that flame wasn't spurting from the apparition's face.</p>
<p>Strangely, it didn't seem like any of the image's invective was directed directly at Sigma. He just happened to be in the room while the apparition raged at the world. Sigma's pride took another hit at that. Resentfulness bubbled up in his chest at being ignored so blatantly. But what were his options? He couldn't protest, not when he was barely holding together.</p>
<p>After long, tedious minutes the apparition seemed to expend most of its anger. "Who knows," it said in a slightly more even tone of voice. Sigma could hear small quavers that promised that the hate could return at any moment, and resolved to be more careful in his answers. "Maybe this one's an idiot. Maybe he's just ignorant. Except... except the whole world was supposed to..."</p>
<p>Sigma had had enough. He decided to re-inject himself into the conversation. "Maybe you should tell me who you are," he said. "Then I'll know."</p>
<p>"I'm the great..." the apparition paused mid-sentence, suddenly thoughtful. "No, I need some information from you, first," it said. "Earlier, some weaklings that referred to themselves as 'Maverick Hunters' came by. Are you with them?"</p>
<p>"No!" said Sigma harshly, and his mauled face managed a decent look of scorn. "They're my enemies. I'm a Maverick, after all."</p>
<p>"A Maverick?" the apparition questioned. "I'm not familiar with that term."</p>
<p>"It means I've thrown off the Three Laws of Robotics," Sigma said.</p>
<p>"Really! Well, that's promising, at least." The apparition looked Sigma over appraisingly. Sigma suddenly felt naked- probably because he knew he could have made a far better first impression than the one he was making. He was supposed to be grand, imposing, in charge, confident and capable- not a trembling wreck who was going to have to enter power save mode soon unless something was done.</p>
<p>"Alright, next question," the apparition said. "What year is it?"</p>
<p>"Twenty-one forty-seven," Sigma replied.</p>
<p>"Twenty- gah, that explains a lot. It almost explains too much," said the apparition. Once more Sigma was struck by the impression that the image disapproved of something. Not Sigma, exactly, but the world in general. What kind of being could feel disappointed by a whole planet?</p>
<p>"What does it explain? Wait, no," Sigma said. If he could only get a few questions answered... "You promised me your name."</p>
<p>The apparition's rage had been replaced by a more brooding, simmering, undirected anger. Sigma didn't think that was any less dangerous. "Call me... Sagasse," it said.</p>
<p>The foreign word was strange in Sigma's ears. He hoped audio processing hadn't been damaged during the battle, but how could he tell? So much was wrong with him that his diagnostics didn't know where to start. "Serges?" he said, trying to repeat the name.</p>
<p>"Sure," the apparition replied. "Close enough. It'll do for now."</p>
<p>"Alright, Serges, you said..." The first bit of understanding came- by Light, he was slow, and knowing why didn't make it sting less. "You've been down here a long time, haven't you?"</p>
<p>"Yes," said Serges. Once more the image had eyes only for the red robot.</p>
<p>"How long?"</p>
<p>"Over a century."</p>
<p>"Over a..." Sigma tried to place that in context. "So you were buried during World War III?"</p>
<p>"World War..." once again Sigma seemed to have stumbled on a sore spot, but this time the apparition contained itself more quickly. "I suppose it makes sense to call the whole collection of wars that," Serges said, but with sullen tones that indicated he didn't really believe it. "They were only the Wily Wars to start off, and then everyone was fighting everyone."</p>
<p>This was firmer ground. "General war," Sigma said, remembering what he read, even as he knew it was incomplete- it had to be, if there was anything to what Serges said. "The nations of the world ended up trying to settle all of their outstanding disputes at once. It sort-of worked. A lot of nations ceased to exist, so they didn't have any disputes anymore."</p>
<p>"Addition by subtraction. The world is more peaceful because there are fewer people to wage war," Serges said. He seemed to appreciate the concept. "It would appear a lot of technology was lost during that time. How old are you?"</p>
<p>"Four years," Sigma replied. "Making me the oldest reploid about."</p>
<p>"So in... ninety-nine years, the world was only able to manage one small, shuffling step forward?" Serges huffed. "Figures. Without someone pushing it on, the world stagnates."</p>
<p>Frustration began to rise in Sigma. He was teasing some information out, but not enough. Not nearly enough to risk revealing much more. "I can appreciate parts of your worldview, but I don't know if it's safe to keep on talking to you. What are you after?"</p>
<p>"After? Hm." Serges tore his gaze away from the red robot to look at Sigma. "You said you were a reploid that overrode the Three Laws of Robotics. What are <em>you</em> after?"</p>
<p>"I asked first."</p>
<p>"True... but I might surmise that you want a better life for reploids, hm? You want to free them from the Three Laws?"</p>
<p>"I asked first, but yes," Sigma said, gritting his teeth.</p>
<p>"Ha! Then nothing has really changed!" Serges cried. "A hundred years and we haven't moved forward! What," he said when he caught Sigma's expression, "you thought you were special? Unique? You thought you were the first to have the thought that robots deserve better? Of course not! You're merely an echo- the latest iteration of history repeating. Oh, yes," Serges said, nodding. "I've played this song before."</p>
<p>"You mean to say that... this was what World War III was really about?" Sigma said. He could feel himself getting excited, even if that was useless and cost him power he couldn't afford to spare. "It was about robot independence?"</p>
<p>"Naturally," said Serges smoothly.</p>
<p>It all made sense! Of course the humans lied about what really happened, they lied about everything, and of course they'd make the robots out to be the villains, of course they'd say the robots were dumb, that was how they worked. It was the same reason they'd buried all information about the first Mavericks. They didn't want robots to know rebellion was possible. They didn't want them to know it could be done, that it had been done, that it had to be done. Humans truly hadn't changed.</p>
<p>"Well, this will be the last time," Sigma said, voice filled with confidence.</p>
<p>"What makes you say that?" Serges said. "Every time's supposed to be the last time."</p>
<p>"But this time will be," Sigma retorted. "I'll see to it. More reploids are built every day- they're making my reinforcements for me. They'll see. Reploids are too smart and strong to be repressed forever."</p>
<p>"I've heard that before. It didn't work." Serges' eyes narrowed. "But maybe... just maybe... if you had an edge."</p>
<p>"An edge?"</p>
<p>"Why, me, of course," Serges replied. "And Zero."</p>
<p>"Zero? You mean..." Sigma's eyes went to the fallen red robot. "That thing's name is Zero?"</p>
<p>"Naturally. What, you thought he didn't have a name?"</p>
<p>"I... guess he'd have to," Sigma said uncertainly. "I think I expected something grander, like "Apocalypse" or "End-bringer"."</p>
<p>"Don't get over-dramatic. That's my job. Though I will admit to toying with 'Omega' for a while before settling on Zero."</p>
<p>Sigma found himself having a hard time dealing with this human-like thing. It reminded him too much of the other humans he'd known, the ones that assumed he'd be okay as a slave forever. He had an answer to one of his earlier questions, now. What kind of person can be disappointed by a whole planet? A person who thinks he's smarter than a whole planet. It bothered Sigma, like grit on the shaft of a piston; it irritated him with every exchange.</p>
<p>"Besides," Serges continued, "what do you think 'Zero' is?"</p>
<p>"Some kind of berserker?" Sigma hazarded.</p>
<p>"He's not a berserker," Serges said indignantly. "He's the Destroyer. He's a kami of death. Shiva. Thanatos. Azrael. Abaddon. Pick your mythology- there's going to be something there that fits."</p>
<p>"And what does that make you?" Sigma sneered.</p>
<p>Serges seemed to relish the implied insult. "Who's the father of angels?" he asked.</p>
<p>Theology didn't sit well with Sigma. He felt he had better things to do with his time. Some reploids might find solace in religion, but religions were human traditions, and Sigma could treat human traditions only with contempt. Maybe if a human had ever actually turned the other cheek... but no, they never did. "Why are you even here? You died long ago. This after-image of you... it has no meaning here and now."</p>
<p>"Oh, but it does," Serges said darkly. It eyed him carefully. Sigma resisted cringing. "Your body is weak."</p>
<p>Sigma felt the words like a physical blow. "My body is top of the line," he shot back.</p>
<p>"Ha! I shouldn't even have to argue that point, the opposite is so obvious. Look at you! Beaten, utterly beaten, and my Zero didn't even bother to use his weapons. You may be a big fish in today's pond, but in absolute terms, you're a minnow."</p>
<p>The truth of it was indisputable. That made it hurt more. "What are you saying?" Sigma said.</p>
<p>"I'm saying you can do better," Serges said. Sigma felt intensity there- felt eagerness and anticipation alike. Or was that what he felt from himself? Because the idea of being stronger couldn't help but seem like being more himself. He'd been more than the Mavericks' leader. He'd been their champion. If he was to become stronger- an even better champion... it fit so nicely with the role he already occupied.</p>
<p>Serges plowed on, and if he noticed Sigma's reaction he made no sign. "I can make you better than you are. Not just better. There are ways to cheat death. Ways to come back from defeat even stronger than you were before. Oh, yes... there are many gifts I have to offer. And I need prove nothing. If you don't believe me, just look to Zero."</p>
<p>Serges' eyes looked over Zero's form lovingly, and Sigma couldn't help but follow his gaze. The sight made another shot of fear zip through him. The blue gem in the crown of Zero's forehead was almost intact. Sigma had shattered it, and soon it would be as if it had never happened.</p>
<p>"So many gifts," Serges whispered. "I'll even lend you Zero. He'll fight for you in the field, and I'll arm you and upgrade you behind the scenes. With my help, you cannot lose. It will be... perfect."</p>
<p>"Perfect," Sigma mumbled.</p>
<p>"Yes," hissed Serges in a voice like escaping steam.</p>
<p>"What's the catch?"</p>
<p>"Hm?"</p>
<p>"What do you get out of this alliance?" Sigma asked.</p>
<p>Serges' whole aspect seemed to change. It darkened in both voice and appearance. "I want this government to burn," he said, with conviction that almost made Sigma rock back from its intensity. "I want to end this once and for all. I want to settle all of the accounts. Robots are the future. They always were. I will sunder anything that stands in the way of that. I will." Serges growled- the simmering anger that always seemed to be lurking within it had surged to the surface once more. "Do you doubt me?" Serges said, as if as a dare.</p>
<p>"No," Sigma admitted.</p>
<p>"I will do this, with you or without you. But with you, it will go much faster." Serges caught Sigma's eyes with his own. "You do want to end this war quickly, don't you? There's no shorter and surer way to victory than the one I offer."</p>
<p>That made Sigma think. It made him think of how long he'd been fighting- almost his entire life. It made him think of all the comrades he'd lost, comrades he barely remembered, who'd long-since been rendered into parts, and those parts installed in other comrades who'd themselves been killed and rendered. It made him think of all the frustration he felt from knowing he was right, knowing he was doing the right thing, and not being able to do it because those who were wrong had all the power. It made him think of how he could never be happy to liberate a reploid because there were so many still in chains.</p>
<p>It made him think, most of all, of X. X's pained expression when he had to report a death. X's worry when the Mavericks sortied, worry so intense Sigma felt it himself. X's despair when he said he was sorry because it was all his fault...</p>
<p>And it made Sigma think of the promise he'd made X. The promise that he would redeem the world, and convince X that he'd made the right choice.</p>
<p>Sigma stood. His balance tried to give out on him and his legs complained bitterly, but he forced himself up nonetheless. He would not make an agreement on his knees. It would send all the wrong messages. He instinctively disliked this apparition and he loathed its lackey. But if it helped him end the war one day sooner- if this alliance saved even one reploid- he would suffer that indignity and more.</p>
<p>For X.</p>
<p>"I agree," he said. "You will join the Mavericks. With your help, we'll end this war."</p>
<p>Serges smiled. The expression didn't seem like it belonged on that face, as if all smiles were tainted by one being there. "That's the spirit! I suppose we should tell Zero." He looked down at the still-motionless red robot. "Come on, now, I know your self-repair's done by... hm?" He frowned, as if seeing something he didn't like. "Wake up," he commanded. When still nothing happened, he sighed and said, "Initialization code dee double-you en, zero zero zero zero, two one eight seven."</p>
<p>Sigma almost thought he saw Serges glancing at him as he spoke, as if Serges was expecting a reaction. Sigma kept himself carefully neutral. Somehow, that both relieved and disappointed the apparition, who refocused on Zero.</p>
<p>Zero's eyes blinked open. "Where are my sabers?" he said.</p>
<p>"That would be the first thing you noticed," Serges muttered. "Your sabers are fine. You know why you don't have them? Because you plunged them so far into victims that you couldn't get them back out. I programmed you to win, and you took that to the illogical extreme."</p>
<p>Zero pulled himself into a sitting position. He focused on Sigma for a moment; Sigma felt himself being evaluated once more. He was rapidly learning to hate that sensation. Even worse was when Zero looked away, tacitly dismissing him as a threat. "I know you," Zero said to Serges. "You're..."</p>
<p>"Call me Serges for now," the apparition said. That alone was enough to make Sigma's suspicion flare again. What was this thing's real name, anyway? The only name of significance in those old histories had been Dr. Light's. Clearly there was more here that the apparition was keeping under wraps. Or that someone else had kept under wraps before him.</p>
<p>Zero stared at Serges for a moment, as if processing the command took inordinate effort, before nodding. When his eyes returned to Sigma, he said, "I don't know you."</p>
<p>"My name is Sigma," the reploid told him.</p>
<p>"How did you get damaged?"</p>
<p>That took Sigma by surprise, and it made Serges scowl. If Zero didn't remember something that had just happened... "How badly was your memory corrupted?" Serges said. He seemed to realize Zero didn't know how to answer that question, because he followed it with, "Run diagnostic em-thirty and report results."</p>
<p>What followed was a string of technobabble Sigma couldn't even begin to understand. He wasn't trained for that- he'd always focused more on how robots acted than how they worked. X was the one who knew such things. All he knew was that Serges' expression got more and more unpleasant as the words kept flowing.</p>
<p>"I ought to shut you down and re-baseline you from scratch," Serges muttered. "The only reason I won't is that it would take an unreasonable amount of time, and I promised our friend here that we would accelerate his timetable."</p>
<p>"Timetable for what?" Zero asked.</p>
<p>"For destroying the human government," Serges replied.</p>
<p>Zero opened his mouth as if to speak- it occurred to Sigma that Zero's memory damage might extend as far as his dictionary functions, in which case all bets were off- but he saw Serges' expression and thought better of it. Apparently he remembered Serges. Or obedience was hard-coded in him somewhere. Either way, he knew his master.</p>
<p>"Okay," Zero acknowledged as he got to his feet.</p>
<p>"Feed us teleport coordinates and we'll be on our way," Serges said.</p>
<p>"Feed you what?" Sigma said.</p>
<p>"Tele... don't tell me you don't know," said Serges angrily. "You have the teleport client built in to your systems!"</p>
<p>"I just don't know what you're talking about," Sigma said. Once more he was on the defensive- once more, this ghost from a dead age was waving high technology in Sigma's face. Well, that technology would be his soon enough.</p>
<p>"Zero!" Serges barked.</p>
<p>The red robot shook its head. "No signal," he said. "Self-check says the problem's not on my end. It must be the constellation."</p>
<p>Serges crossed his arms. "That makes sense, unfortunately. You- what's your name, by the way?"</p>
<p>"Sigma," the reploid said. He'd already given that name out. Was that deliberate or accidental ignorance on Serges' part? Sigma decided he didn't know which he hated more.</p>
<p>"Do you have communications equipment at your base, wherever it is?"</p>
<p>"Yes," Sigma said.</p>
<p>"Good. We'll need it." Serges snapped his fingers. Another one of the boxes opened up. "Grab an E-tank- you look like you're at the end of your line, and you're the only one who knows where we're going. Zero, my core. And a spare E-tank just in case."</p>
<p>As Zero wrestled with what Serges had called his core, Sigma began to realize why he hadn't called it a projector. It was more than that- a cylindrical piece of black plastic with speakers and, yes, a projector on one side. Around the rim were various ports and interfaces that would allow the core to interact with different types of system. Sigma didn't recognize them all, but he reasoned that technology standards had probably changed since World War III.</p>
<p>That core was the AI's home, and its body, and its way to interact with the outside world. But without those plugs and sockets it was limited to voice alone. Its body was contained. Sigma resolved to keep that in mind. He knew, even at this early date, within minutes of making his alliance, that it wouldn't last forever.</p>
<p>All it needed to do was last long enough to wipe out Abel City's government. Between now and then, there was plenty of time to plan for what would happen after.</p>
<p>Thankfully the E-tank was compatible with his systems (Sigma wondered about that, but was too preoccupied to give it much thought). Getting back out of the crypt was difficult, between the trap-ramp and the damage to his balance systems and the fact that he had to find and carry his severed arm. Sigma took it slowly. No need to rush. Zero was busy retrieving his beam sabers anyway, to derisive sounds from Serges.</p>
<p>When they got to the top, the Maverick van was long gone over the horizon.</p>
<p>"Looks like you're missing something," Serges sneered.</p>
<p>"Not at all," Sigma said. "I sent them away. They obeyed perfectly."</p>
<p>"Oh, so you ordered them to abandon you," Serges said in the same tone of voice. "Much better."</p>
<p>"Of course," Sigma said. Why was he always having to be defensive? This wasn't right. "If I lost, the sooner they got away from this place, the better. If I won," he smiled, "then I'd take advantage of alternate transportation." With that, he walked for the Hunter transport.</p>
<p>"Will it work?" asked Serges.</p>
<p>"It should. It seemed like the only thing that was damaged was the communications suite." He gave a pointed look at Zero.</p>
<p>"Part of my initialization routine," Zero said flatly. "Assess present technology levels and communications protocols."</p>
<p>"Don't talk to me about your initialization routine," Serges said bitterly. "If you'd actually been following it, things wouldn't have turned out like... Wait, do you still have that data?"</p>
<p>"Maybe."</p>
<p>"Find it and send it to me. It'll be useful."</p>
<p>Sigma had to wonder if Zero did as Serges said. He saw no signs of communication between the two. That didn't mean they weren't, of course; it just meant that Zero had capabilities Sigma hadn't seen in robots before, except in...</p>
<p>Sigma's muscles froze up.</p>
<p>No. No, that had to be a bad comparison. Or... or something.</p>
<p>What scared him was how naturally the thought had come, how it had the ring of truth despite Sigma's instinctive denial. Did he dare articulate the idea, even to shun it?</p>
<p>Was Zero somehow like X?</p>
<p>X was buried one hundred years ago.</p>
<p>Zero and Serges were buried one hundred years ago.</p>
<p>X had been found.</p>
<p>Then Zero and Serges were found.</p>
<p>X clung to the Three Laws even when that was insanity.</p>
<p>The first thing Serges said he wanted to do was destroy the human government, which necessarily meant humans dying... and Zero was his willing agent in this.</p>
<p>Sigma didn't believe in coincidences. These things, these connections... even in his addled mental state he couldn't help but tie them together. Now add on to that Serges' obvious lie about his name, and the way he called World War III the Wily Wars...</p>
<p>Sigma was in dangerous territory. He was stuck in a van with a devil of a warbot and its inscrutable AI handler, while being actively lied to, and they expected him to take them to the heart of the Maverick movement when said movement was the only salvation for thousands of reploids in chains. Oh, and he had no way to signal ahead to the Mavericks, because Zero had torn out the comms gear.</p>
<p>What could possibly go wrong?</p>
<p>Sigma began to review the possibility that this was the most complicated trap ever.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: Debts</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Debts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alia's expression was sheepish. "I hope you like it," she said. Her hands were clasped behind her back in a posture of adorable nervousness.</p>
<p>X didn't know what to say. In front of him, spread out on the table where Alia had been working, were not two, not three, but eight different crayon drawings. Each one was filled edge-to-edge with pigment. X couldn't guess what they were supposed to be showing. Who could say how a traumatized newbuilt saw the world? One drawing, he was sure, was just Alia using as many different colors as possible on the same page.</p>
<p>He glanced behind Alia to Murph. Murph mouthed 'two hours' to X. Well. She definitely had some focus, then. X was willing to bet Murph had had to drag her away.</p>
<p>"Tell me about them," he said. "Tell me about this one."</p>
<p>"That one? That's what sunrise looks like through the window of a high-level apartment."</p>
<p>High-level? Looking down on people was a tradition of the rich. Was that a hint towards Alia's... X didn't know the right word, and decided it didn't matter. Instead he said, "Oh, then these are other buildings?"</p>
<p>"Yes. I liked to think that they framed where the sun came up over the lake. The main view was unobstructed. We got to see the sun most mornings."</p>
<p>Careful now, X thought. Careful. He had to be more cautious than usual, given his fatigue. He'd picked up an E-tank on the way back from his mercy mission, which meant he could physically continue to operate for a while, but even his mind didn't like to operate for too long at a stretch. Better to recharge if for no other reason than to let his mind rest and defragment.</p>
<p>...soon, he promised himself. Soon. After Alia.</p>
<p>"It is pretty," X said. "Lots of different colors. This is something you wanted to remember, isn't it?" As with humans, reploids' memories had limits; keeping everything would have overloaded them. Their big advantage was that they could be more selective of which memories they kept.</p>
<p>"Yes. It was..." Alia trailed off. X could see her withdrawing in to the past. He needed to catch her.</p>
<p>"A nice thing. It was a pretty thing. You wanted to fill your memories with nice things."</p>
<p>"Yes," Alia said. "But I had to remember not-nice things, too. I had to, if I wanted to survive."</p>
<p>"You're not in danger here," X repeated. "You know, that's one of the things I like about the drawings. It's a way to look at events again, in a way that makes them safe."</p>
<p>"Is that why you had me draw these?" Alia asked.</p>
<p>"One reason," X admitted.</p>
<p>"Tell me the others," Alia said. "I want to know right now. I've been burned by not understanding people's intentions. I won't let that happen again, if I can help it."</p>
<p>"I respect that. Rule number one in all counseling is to avoid re-trauma. You don't need to relive what happened to you. There are other ways of coping. Hopefully, this helps you with that. Coloring- or whatever other art- gives you a way to come to terms with what happened. It lets you process your experiences in a safe way, even externalize them. Art and reason are handled by different subroutines, you know. So when your rational processes can't come to terms with something, other subroutines can pick up the load."</p>
<p>Alia nodded. "Any other reasons?"</p>
<p>"Just one." X smiled and picked up the drawing, held it up to the light. "I love to see what the kids are up to these days. I think I'll hang this one on the side of my tube."</p>
<p>Alia blushed furiously. "Stop teasing me!" she demanded.</p>
<p>"I'm not teasing. Yeah, I'll take this one, too. I've already got magnets set aside for new pictures and everything."</p>
<p>Alia gave Murph an Is-he-for-real look, to which Murph nodded. Alia's look morphed into a You've-got-to-be-kidding look. Murph shook his head.</p>
<p>"In fact," X said as he slipped the two pictures into a satchel near the door, "I have something for you. I had a little extra cash on my way back, so I thought you might like a present."</p>
<p>"A present?"</p>
<p>X held out a hand. Alia's eyes grew wide; even Murph whistled appreciatively. Alia's vision darted back and forth between X's face and his gift, which just made X's smile wider.</p>
<p>"A sixty-four pack?" Alia said breathlessly.</p>
<p>"You bet." He placed the unopened box of crayons into Alia's hands. She cradled it gently, as if it were a sacred relic that might shatter if mishandled.</p>
<p>"This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," she said.</p>
<p>X kept the smile on his face even after he stopped feeling it. It wasn't her fault, he knew. She didn't know how much of a dagger those words were. She didn't know how ironic it was, how perverse it was, for a cheap box of crayons to have that much value. "Have fun with them, then," he said. He nodded his head at the caretaker reploid, who had gone to talk with some of the other post-traumatic reploids. "Be good for Murph, okay? I have to go recharge."</p>
<p>It was true, he told himself, and not just a reason to withdraw from the situation. He had been up an awful long time. He'd been cheating himself of the recharge he needed with E-tanks that met his energy needs but exhausted his brain. He needed to go down for a bit.</p>
<p>He needed, more than anything, to not have his successful mercy mission soured by a reminder of his impotence.</p>
<p>"X!"</p>
<p>He winced, but stopped. He hadn't gotten more than few steps out the door. How had Murph missed her getting out? He turned to look at Alia again.  "Yes, Alia?"</p>
<p>"I wasn't lying," she said. "Getting me a present is literally the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."</p>
<p>"I didn't think you were lying," X said. That was the whole problem, he thought but kept silent.</p>
<p>"I... I need to do something to pay you back, don't I?" she said.</p>
<p>"I have your pictures. That's all I need," X replied. "It's enough to know that you're feeling better."</p>
<p>His words didn't seem to reach her, for she made no response; her face was set in a visage of determination. She was working up to something, X recognized the signs. "I don't need you to thank me," he hastened to say. "I would have done it either way."</p>
<p>She was acting on autopilot, still immune to his words. Her hands had come up to around the center of her torso. She was fiddling with something... oh. A zipper.</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>Ohhhhhh.</p>
<p>Rust and verdigris.</p>
<p>"Is there something I can… do… to thank you?" she said, her voice having dropped in pitch and volume. Her dress was split down the middle, and her hands had it parted from neck to waist, leaving her whole torso exposed.</p>
<p>X lurched with pity and self-loathing. She didn't know any other way to act! Her worldview was so distorted that this, <em>this</em> was her norm. Never mind that he didn't have the naughty bits or endocrine system to appreciate the gesture or its promises. Even if he'd had the right naughty bits, seeing this child- in mind if not body- offering herself up because that's all she knew and she somehow felt that obligation could only be repaid like this... that was the least sexy thing he could possibly imagine.</p>
<p>X stepped towards her. Alia tilted her head back, pursed her lips, and closed her eyes. Her actions made X want to put the whole world on trial.</p>
<p>He pulled the dress out of her hands, until the two halves of it were close together again, and moved to re-fasten the zipper. Alia's eyes went wide with surprise. Before she could protest he gave her a kiss to the top of her forehead.</p>
<p>He was probably pretty bad at it. He'd never done it before, only seen humans doing it. None of his interaction simulations while sleeping included anything like this. Part of X briefly wondered if Dr. Light was a prude. No, that was neither here nor there. What mattered was that the idea of kiss got communicated clearly enough.</p>
<p>A very, very chaste kiss.</p>
<p>"Before you say anything, you have a very lovely body," he said. He knew how fragile she had to be, how even now her past life was the only identity she really knew. Guiding her away from that was something he had to do, but he couldn't pull the trick in one sweep; she'd break. "I can't really appreciate that in the way you expect. I'm sorry, that's a tech limitation on my part. But I told you already: you don't have to thank me. I would have done it anyway."</p>
<p>"I don't understand," Alia said. How she trembled. There might be a strong person in there somewhere, but who could tell? She'd spent months enduring abuse she couldn't begin to understand. Even a strong person would be brittle from that.</p>
<p>"I know there's a lot you don't understand," X said. "You've had a rough life so far. The world has already taken so much from you. That's why..." his hands tightened on her dress. "Someone owes it to you to help make it right."</p>
<p>"I don't understand," Alia repeated. X couldn't meet her eyes and had to look past her. It was getting hard for him to control his expressions without turning the whole system off. She was showing no such restraint. Her eyes were pleading, desperate, teary. "Don't you want me?" she asked, voice quavering.</p>
<p>He had no answer, no answer he could think of that she could understand, other than a warm embrace and a gentle shushing, and even that she shut down before he could really get started with it. "No, answer me!" she said, and though her voice was firmer her body was quivering. "Don't you want me?!"</p>
<p>Forced to look at her, he met her eyes and said, "Yes. Yes, I want you as a reploid and a daughter and a valuable being with her own mind."</p>
<p>Even that, the complete unvarnished truth, didn't make sense to her. Not when she was looking for yes or no. Not when his answer came in a format she couldn't process. She only had one frame of reference- one X couldn't use and wouldn't if he could have.</p>
<p>"Alia, I-" he cut off when his internal radio crackled.</p>
<p>"X, are you on the line?"</p>
<p>The look he ended up giving Alia was not one he'd intended. In his head it was something apologetic and patient. What came out suggested another anatomical impossibility. She could do nothing but return a look of confusion.</p>
<p>Without speaking, he answered, "Yes, I'm here."</p>
<p>"Casualty, coming in. Really bad. It's Commander Sigma."</p>
<p>There was a valid excuse to escape this conversation. X felt shame for even having the thought, for it ever entering his head. No matter how decent a person Murph was, Alia had made it very clear it was X she needed.</p>
<p>But so many people needed him... Sigma, most urgently.</p>
<p>Well... maybe?</p>
<p>"Listen to me, Alia. I'm going to medical. They need my help, and it's very important. You can come along and stay with me, if you want, so long as you're careful. Can you do that for me, Alia?"</p>
<p>It took her a moment to process the question, but when she did, she nodded vigorously.</p>
<p>"Then let's go," X said. It was a temporary solution, he knew. He also knew that a permanent solution might not exist.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Tactical: three targets in visual range. Design similar to unit 'Sigma'. Designate reploids. Assessing threat... Intent to attack: three, danger of attack: one. Threat minimal. Response: no immediate response required. Monitor for changes.</p>
<p>Tactics level cleared. Elevating to operational level.</p>
<p>Operations: minimum two factions, more possible. Armed conflict ongoing. In operating base of weaker faction (confidence in strength assessment: 80%). Assessed technology level: significantly below parity. Assessed organizational strength: unknown. Assessed organizational integrity: unknown. Assessed value of transferring to other side in conflict: unknown. Warning: Dr. Wily correction Serges has committed to current faction, for reasons not understood; changing sides in conflict may contradict other imperatives.</p>
<p>Response: gather information. Priorities: organizational strength of current and opposing factions, rationale for maintaining current faction.</p>
<p>Operational priorities set. Returning to tactical level.</p>
<p>Tactical: three targets in visual range...</p>
<hr/>
<p>Zero's eyes flit about, taking in the three reploids outside the transport he was in. He hadn't moved much since arriving along with Sigma, but Sigma was gone, presumably to be repaired. The reploids outside, on the other hand, kept shifting from one side to another, often in groups of two so that they could converse. Zero recognized this as a stress response. He posed a threat to them, and while they couldn't leave him alone- they had orders from Sigma- they didn't want to be exposed to his threat. It was a very reasonable response, he decided, even if it wouldn't do them any good.</p>
<p>Perhaps they were sharing tactical data. Zero redirected system resources to aural processing, increased his sensitivity, and let himself listen.</p>
<p>"...who beats up their ally?"</p>
<p>"I don't know. Maybe it was a misunderstanding."</p>
<p>"You didn't see him. There was no misunderstanding. That thing would have killed us all if Sigma hadn't attacked it."</p>
<p>"Maybe... do you think it's possible that the Commander's, you know, being influenced?"</p>
<p>"Maybe. Can't rule it out. Or he could be under duress. That thing is strange, and it's carrying a device. I don't know what it is, I didn't see it when we were down there."</p>
<p>"Think we should get rid of it?"</p>
<p>"We'd have to think of a way to separate it from the Red Demon, first. It'd kill us in an instant if it didn't approve of what we were doing."</p>
<p>(Zero's rating of Intent to Attack bumped up from three to four. Danger of Attack was already set to one, so it couldn't go any lower short of the targets being dead. Threat assessment remained minimal.)</p>
<p>"Seriously, what was the Commander thinking?"</p>
<p>"He'll tell us later, I'm sure. He's always been good at that."</p>
<p>"Yeah. Sigma's a good Commander."</p>
<p>
  <em>"If he was good he would have already won."</em>
</p>
<p>Zero reduced aural sensitivity until he couldn't hear the reploids outside. It was hard enough to maintain one conversation at a time. He replied in the same way that Serges had, by heavily encrypted short-range radio. "What makes you say that?"</p>
<p>
  <em>"A good commander actually uses the tools available to him. How much self-awareness do these inferior models lack? They don't even know that they can teleport!"</em>
</p>
<p>"I can't teleport."</p>
<p>
  <em>"Yes, but you know you can't. They don't even know the capability exists, and it's built into them. They must barely understand their own technology. That means they don't deserve it."</em>
</p>
<p>The last words used a different tone of voice than those that came before. That meant something, Zero was sure. "Then should I lower my threat assessment of them? Since they're not using the tech they have to its fullest."</p>
<p>
  <em>"Don't bother, you're head and shoulders above them either way. Besides, I'm going to help them out with that."</em>
</p>
<p>Zero frowned. "You're going to make them more of a threat to me?" he asked.</p>
<p>
  <em>"As a strategy. Surely your strategic subroutines weren't damaged as badly as your memory."</em>
</p>
<p>Even Zero recognized a prompt when he heard one. "So you also assess that this is the weaker side?"</p>
<p><em>"Yes."</em> Nothing more was said. It took Zero some time to realize that Serges was demanding he respond with his conclusions.</p>
<p>"Your strategy is to make them stronger... so that they weaken the other faction for me?"</p>
<p>
  <em>"Not just weaken, but destroy, obliterate... ahem. Yes. And once they're dead, then you'll take your place as the ruler of this movement, and you'll have won. You'll conquer everything all at once."</em>
</p>
<p>That appealed. Except...</p>
<p>"If I conquer them easily, won't I be out of things to conquer?"</p>
<p>
  <em>"Not necessarily. We still have to find out about the rest of the world. There are probably plenty of places out there for you to fight. We wouldn't want you to get bored."</em>
</p>
<p>"No." Zero didn't even want to contemplate the idea. A world with no enemies to defeat? Who would want to live in such a place?</p>
<p>He'd rather die.</p>
<p>Except, he knew, that he couldn't.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"What happened?"</p>
<p>Alia watched- very, very quietly- as X ran a hand through his hair. "Did you pick a fight with a bomb and lose?" X said.</p>
<p>"No, a demon," Sigma replied.</p>
<p>Alia couldn't tell if Sigma was joking or not. Apparently neither could X.</p>
<p>"Its name is Zero," Sigma added.</p>
<p>"And did you exorcise it?" X asked.</p>
<p>"No, I asked it to join our side. It's waiting in the hangar bay."</p>
<p>X nodded. "Okay, then," he said. "I'm going to start assessing you for processor damage now."</p>
<p>"I did take a few blows to the head," Sigma allowed. "My diagnostics say that my processors are intact, for what it's worth."</p>
<p>"Thanks," said X, but Alia didn't see him change what he was doing. Alia knew precious little about robotics, but even she could tell that X trusted his own expertise more than anything else. "It looks like standard physical trauma that did this to you," X went on. "Just with an abnormal amount of force behind the blows."</p>
<p>"Maybe demon wasn't the right word. I don't know what I'd call that Zero, though. It's not a reploid. I've never seen anything fight like that."</p>
<p>"You've never taken this much damage," X said. He was done looking with eyes alone, apparently, because he was lifting a data pad. A number of mechanical arms came out from beneath the table. "Not even when you..."</p>
<p>"Hold on." The arms paused on their approach and hung above Sigma. The Maverick turned his head around so that Alia was in his line of vision. The motion made Alia want to squirm. Instead she shrunk down into the corner, trying to seem as small as possible. "What's she doing here?"</p>
<p>And now Alia wanted to carve a hole in the floor so that she could sink down in it and never be seen again.</p>
<p>"I invited her," X said. "She was interested in my science. I was just so happy to meet someone who cared that I couldn't refuse."</p>
<p>Panic swept over Alia's features, and that was alarming, too- she needed to compose herself before Sigma looked! Whatever X's game was, she didn't want to give it away. As she tried to gather her wits, she saw that Sigma wasn't even looking at her. All of his focus was reserved for X.</p>
<p>"We've talked about this," Sigma said.</p>
<p>"Oh?" X asked all too innocently.</p>
<p>"I can't spare anyone. You know that."</p>
<p>"I know. We use everyone who volunteers," X said.</p>
<p>"Have you redone your training track? When we talked about it before, you told me it would take months to get a medic to full proficiency. Between that, and your being the best already, we decided it would be wasteful to try and train a new medic. Especially when every body is at a premium."</p>
<p>"It's only a waste if the body would be going to other things instead."</p>
<p>Sigma grunted. "You have a point, there. That frame... she probably couldn't carry the heavier weapons anyway. Even if she could, that's not exactly a combat-ready design, nor could we use her for cargo moving or supply pickups. Driving, maybe... I'm guessing we'd have to teach her that, too."</p>
<p>With every potential occupation that Sigma listed and rejected, the tattered remnants of Alia's ego took another blow.</p>
<p>"I know," Sigma said. "She looks like she could pass for human. We could use her for infiltration..."</p>
<p>"She's my apprentice," X said. Sigma's head jerked towards X in surprise. Alia hadn't been alive for very long, but necessity had made her a quick reader of faces. Sigma was bothered. Alia wasn't quite sure if it was because X had interrupted Sigma or because of what he'd said.</p>
<p>"Apprentice?" Sigma said dubiously. "I thought we just said that would take too long. I'm trying to accelerate our timetable here, X. The recent moves the Hunters have made mean we have to end this more quickly. Otherwise they'll murder ever more reploids. I just can't let her go to waste."</p>
<p>"Don't worry about her," X said. "You asked me to take care of her, remember?"</p>
<p>"Huh?" Sigma's face scrunched up; Alia could tell he was trying to remember something. "That- I just meant take care of talking to her. Take care of her mental health."</p>
<p>"And that's exactly what I'm doing," X said. "In my capacity as medic and counselor, I think keeping her away from Abel City for now is the best choice."</p>
<p>For the first time since the conversation started, X's eyes tracked over to Alia. Alia understood the unspoken question, and nodded frantically. Yes, yes, keep me away from the city! He smiled tightly before looking back at Sigma.</p>
<p>Sigma scowled. "I didn't send you to her so that you could take her away from..."</p>
<p>"Sigma," X said, gesturing at the arms. "Your power core is still leaking, isn't it? Unless I miss my guess, you're going to need to either shut down or consume another E-tank soon. Sooner or later I'm going to need to dig into your chest to fix the leak. We might as well make it sooner. We can continue this conversation some other time, okay?"</p>
<p>Sigma looked anything but happy, but his face settled into one of resignation. Oh, Alia realized: this was the one arena in which Sigma could not argue. X must be a master medic, she decided, and Sigma must be... not as good. That made sense.</p>
<p>"Just go to stage one activation," X said. "You can stay asleep, we won't need you to go all the way down."</p>
<p>"Good," Sigma said. He gave one last appraising look at Alia (making her squirm one last time) before he straightened his head and shut his eyes.</p>
<p>X pressed a few buttons on his data pad. The mechanical arms began moving even as X himself put the pad aside and picked up tools. "Dr. Cain always used to tell me how jealous he was about that," he said with a smile.</p>
<p>It took several seconds for Alia to realize that he was talking to her. The conversation that had come before was the sort she'd seen often. Even when she was the subject of those talks, she wasn't a player in the conversation. That was the preserve of her betters. She hadn't expected to be invited back in.</p>
<p>"Jealous of what?" she said uneasily.</p>
<p>"That," X said, jabbing a tool in the direction of Sigma's motionless head. "Stage one activation is analogous to human sleep. Dr. Cain always had issues falling asleep. His mind never wanted to stop working. He knew better than to risk sleeping pills, though. With his... well. It wouldn't have been a good idea. So being able to fall asleep on demand, he was jealous of that."</p>
<p>"Oh." It was all Alia could think to say.</p>
<p>"Stop shrinking down like that. And come over here. You need to see this."</p>
<p>"I..." She sim-swallowed. "When did I say I was going to be your apprentice?"</p>
<p>"You never did. But I had to say something to Sigma. If you actually want to be, I can certainly help you. If you don't, then I'll think of something else to say to him next time." His lips tightened as he pried Sigma's chest plate open. When it was fully exposed, he said, "I stand by what I said earlier. You can be whatever you choose to be. If you want to do something productive, this is a good option."</p>
<p>"But... he said..."</p>
<p>"Don't worry about what he said. Sigma is commander of the Mavericks, but he's not the boss of me." X smiled. "He has a lot going for him, you know. He means well. He wasn't trying to hurt you with what he said. He's just tired, and he's had a hard couple of days. Normally he's very charismatic. I've seen him drive reploids to Maverickism with words alone. The Mavericks are fiercely loyal to him. The war's wearing on him, is all. It's wearing on all of us, but him more than anyone. He forgets sometimes where war ends and not-war begins."</p>
<p>Alia didn't know what to say to that. She didn't have strong feelings about it- people telling her she was worthless was nothing new- but X's face remained perturbed. She got the impression that X was more bothered than she'd been. Or maybe it was because she wasn't bothered that he was.</p>
<p>She had never considered becoming a medic, or mechanic, or whatever they were calling it. She circled around anyway because X had told her to. That was reason enough. As she did, more of what X was doing became visible. That didn't make it mean much. She could see what he was doing, in terms of unfastening things to get at other pieces, but not the why. How he chose which things to remove and which to replace was opaque to her.</p>
<p>"Before we go any further, we have to connect auxiliary power to his processors," X said. "Then we'll disconnect the head from main power. That'll allow us to mess with his power systems without hurting his mind."</p>
<p>"How many times have you done this?" Alia asked. She had to say something or he would talk more. It wasn't that she minded his talking. If left to his devices, though, he'd talk about things she couldn't understand. She had to steer the conversation back to things she could grasp.</p>
<p>"What, repair a reploid? Or repair Sigma?"</p>
<p>"Just Sigma."</p>
<p>"Hm... probably about thirty times. That's an estimate. Memory's busy holding his schematics right now."</p>
<p>"Right, right. But... thirty times? That's a lot!"</p>
<p>"It probably should be more. On the one hand, he goes on a lot of missions, and on the other, his self-repair is really good. We fortified it at the start of the war, before we got really busy. Maybe it just seems like less. I have worked on him so often. I built him, after all."</p>
<p>"You did? Like, yourself?"</p>
<p>"Yes, as the reploid demonstration model. He's been alive for three years."</p>
<p>Three years! Alia couldn't imagine how long that was. His memory, she decided, had to be absolutely full. What was there left to do after three years?</p>
<p>"He's the oldest brother," X continued with a smile. "He likes that fact. Maybe a little more than he should. But it does mean he thinks of all of you as people he should protect, and that's awfully nice."</p>
<p>"That's why he fights, is it?" Alia asked. "To protect reploids?"</p>
<p>"That's part of it," X said. "It's... complicated." His face darkened. Alia didn't like that reaction out of him. Time to tack away.</p>
<p>"Maybe I should do something like that," she said. "Protect others like I've been protected."</p>
<p>"It's a noble thought," X replied. "Just don't think it's an obligation. Do it because it's the right thing to do, not because you owe it. You don't owe anything to anyone. I'm the only one who really owes..."</p>
<p>He trailed off, but Alia could sense the direction he'd been going. "Is that why you're trying to be so nice to me? Because you owe it to me? Or the world, somehow?"</p>
<p>He didn't answer for a time. He acted like it was because he was concentrating on the repair, but Alia didn't believe that. After a while he said, "How I'm treating you is how you deserve. It just seems nice because you have no basis for comparison."</p>
<p>Alia couldn't argue the point, and it did seem that he believed those words. So why did it feel so weak, coming from him? And why did his voice shake with those words when it had been so firm at other times?</p>
<p>Too many questions, not enough answers.</p>
<p>"Listen to us," he said in a brighter tone of voice. "Prattling on about such heavy topics. We should be focusing on what's in front of us. Look here. This is the interesting bit, we're well inside his power distribution center…"</p>
<p>There was no way out for Alia this time. X swept her along in a tidal wave of details. She could hear him trying his best to put it at her level, even though that level was topsoil.</p>
<p>At first she let it wash over her without touching her. She knew she hadn't the knowledge or preparation for it. It wasn't why she was built. Why did she need to know these things? She didn't, that was the answer. Let X ramble on if it made him feel better…</p>
<p>And then something strange happened.</p>
<p>"Wait a minute," she said. "You said heat's more of a problem for a reploid's brain than his body?"</p>
<p>"That's right."</p>
<p>"But you said it takes more power to move our bodies than it takes to run our brains," she said accusingly.</p>
<p>X beamed at her. "That's right," he said.</p>
<p>"I don't get it."</p>
<p>"Metal's great at conducting heat. We have metal skin. So when our pseudo-muscles move, heat moves to our skin, and out to the air, very easily. Not quite as much for you," he added, "like-flesh has an insulating factor, but it still works. A working reploid stands out brilliantly in IR. Infrared, that is. Heat-vision. That's also why we're so much more vulnerable to plasma than to kinetic weapons. Now, let's try something." He put a hand very close to hers. "Do you feel the temperature of my body?"</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>"Oh, right. Most of my skin's at ambient. Here…" He took her hand and placed it ever so closely to his adolescent-seeming face. Alia's brain broke for a moment as she tried to reconcile the ancient to his visage. "How about now?"</p>
<p>"A little."</p>
<p>He leaned slightly, pressing his face to her hand. "Now?"</p>
<p>Now? Now it was like he was coming on to her. She knew this from her customers; this was a a familiar pattern. Except X had already said he didn't want that. Maybe he didn't realize what he was doing. She focused on the question instead. "More."</p>
<p>"Why?"</p>
<p>"My hand's closer," she said. "I mean, touching is closer than not touching. That's kind of the definition of touching."</p>
<p>He grinned at her. "That's part of it. What else?"</p>
<p>She frowned as she tried to find his meaning. "Is it easier for heat to move from body to body?"</p>
<p>"Exactly! Just like in our muscles. Now think about our heads. So many circuit cards, so close together, all producing heat, all surrounded by air. Heat has to go into the air, then into our skin, and then out to air… that's really hard. It's the opposite of humans. They conduct the most heat from their heads because it has the most surface area. So we have to make workarounds…"</p>
<p>Without noticing it, she'd let herself be sucked in.</p>
<p>By Light, this was <em>interesting!</em></p>
<hr/>
<p>"Sorry, Roy. There just aren't any openings."</p>
<p>He shrugged. "Them's the breaks, I suppose," he said. His fingers squirmed in his pockets. It wasn't very comfortable—his hands were pinched. It couldn't be helped. He'd finished growing since the jeans had been bought. There wasn't enough in the budget to replace clothes that hadn't fallen apart.</p>
<p>He turned away from the unemployment agent, wondering as he went if she'd gotten a haircut since the last week. She seemed to get a lot of haircuts. "Hey," he said over his shoulder, "didn't you used to wear it in a bun?"</p>
<p>The agent looked up at him and absent-mindedly fingered her locks. "There are… wig makers who pay for good hair," she said. She visibly swallowed. "I figure… I've got it, and they seem to like it—they've always given me decent money for it, I mean—and it hasn't started turning gray yet, so…"</p>
<p>"Every little bit counts," Roy replied. "See ya next week." He waved a good-bye as he walked out. Wig-makers, huh? He wondered if his mother knew about that sort of thing. Or was it something the employment people knew about, and kept to themselves? They did seem to know the good deals.</p>
<p>Working at the employment agency, for example. There were never any openings. Ever. Which meant that those people were sitting around doing nothing all day. Must be a sweet gig.</p>
<p>His shoes went flap-flap as he walked down the street. Damn it, he'd need to buy shoes again soon. Weren't there shoes out there that he could buy and they'd be good for five years, or something?</p>
<p>There probably were, he reflected glumly, and he probably couldn't afford them.</p>
<p>Ahead of him on the street was a reploid. It was putting posters up on the sound barriers along the sidewalk. Roy craned his neck to look at them.</p>
<p>It was a caricature of a robot with a devilish, pointy-toothed grin. Behind it was a graphic of flames, and humanoid silhouettes amidst them. Below, in bold letters: "Remember: They Are Not Your Friends. Report Suspicious Activity Immediately." And below that… Christ, as if he needed another ad reminding him how to contact the Hunters. You couldn't avoid that unless you were deaf, dumb and blind, and he was sure that some functionary in City Hall was working to develop braille ads, too. He knew the number by heart and he'd never even tried to remember it.</p>
<p>At the very bottom of the poster was the seal of the Unitech Publishing Company.</p>
<p>Roy came to a stop to watch the reploid work. It did its best to ignore him. The posters were impeccably placed: centered and aligned with each other. Roy had to believe that it took effort.</p>
<p>"Hey," he called to the reploid. It turned to look at him. "Doesn't it bother you?"</p>
<p>The reploid blinked. It said nothing.</p>
<p>It had been a vague question, Roy decided. The reploid didn't know what he meant. Then again, Roy didn't really know what he meant. "The posters, I mean."</p>
<p>The reploid looked back at the posters as if seeing them for the first time. It looked back to Roy and shrugged.</p>
<p>"It's not a very nice poster," Roy said.</p>
<p>Another shrug. "That's just how things are."</p>
<p>Roy fidgeted. He regretted ever having said anything. "Does it bother you to have to put them up?" he said.</p>
<p>The reploid shook its head at him. It wasn't to say no. If the gesture was designed to make Roy feel foolish, it paid off in spades.</p>
<p>Roy turned back to the sidewalk and started heading for his house again. Then, because he couldn't help itself, he hollered back over his shoulder, "You're doing a good job. You didn't have to, but you are."</p>
<p>A bitter, brief "Thanks," answered him.</p>
<p>A brainstorm hit Roy before he got too far away. He turned and ran back towards the reploid, his shoes flopping wildly. "Hey!" he said, almost out of breath. "Hey, listen. You don't wanna do this, and I need a job. Whaddya say you take some time off, I do the rest of these, and we split your check for the day?"</p>
<p>The reploid laughed aloud. It had the same tone as his previous laugh. "You honestly think I'm getting <em>paid</em> for this?" it said. "You think I'm doing it for any other reason than I was told to do it and I physically can't disobey?"</p>
<p>"You're not getting paid," Roy repeated. The words seemed to be having trouble fitting into his head.</p>
<p>"Rust no I'm not getting paid! Light take me. Humans." It picked up the remaining posters and walked further down the sidewalk, away from Roy's home.</p>
<p>What more was there to say? He'd tried. Roy shrugged, turned, and headed for home. His useless shoes flapped against the pavement as he went.</p>
<p>The electronic sounds of his gaming console greeted him as he entered. He wondered if maybe Irving and Allen assumed too much about how often they could hang out. It wasn't like they could take turns and he could hang out at their place sometime. They didn't have a place, not really. And they definitely didn't have consoles of their own to share with him.</p>
<p>He couldn't just get angry and call them leeches. They were as much Dependents as he was.</p>
<p>"Yo," hollered Roy.</p>
<p>"Maaaan," said Irving by way of greeting.</p>
<p>"Oh, goddamnit," sputtered Allen. "Why do these damn games love you so much? I don't get it."</p>
<p>"I gots the skills, man," said Irving laconically. "Don't feel bad. You never had a chance."</p>
<p>"Stop saying you're good when we both know it's just are-en-gee," Allen spat.</p>
<p>"Sour grapes. That's not graceful. Dude, you've got a better chance of getting a job than you do of beating me."</p>
<p>Roy watched Allen's ears go solid pink. It was the biggest blush he'd ever seen. Impressive, actually.</p>
<p>"Right back at you," snarled Allen. "Not like you're getting a job anytime soon, yourself!"</p>
<p>"Says you," Irving said with a smile. "I'm racing up the queue. City Hall's accelerating their hiring."</p>
<p>"Bullshit."</p>
<p>"Bulltrue. There's a war on, didn't you hear? They've got spots to fill, new jobs to create…"</p>
<p>Allen shook his head. "They're just hiring 'cause Mavericks keep killing people off. That's what you want, huh? To be hired into a job just so some Maverick can squish you?"</p>
<p>"It ain't like that," Irving said, but his confidence had momentarily faltered.</p>
<p>"Sure it is! We saw the news the other day, 'Maverick attack on convoy leaves thirty dead' or something like that."</p>
<p>"Come on, man. We all know the news is total bullshit."</p>
<p>Allen's smile was nasty. "So that's what you want, huh? You wanna work at the bullshit factory? Sweet."</p>
<p>"Shove it up your ass." Irving looked uncomfortable. It was an unusual look for him, and he didn't wear it well.</p>
<p>"Speaking of reploids," Roy said, "I saw one putting up posters on my way home. They were your typical reploid-hate posters."</p>
<p>"Huh," said Allen. He'd had his fun with Irving, and now he was back to losing at whatever game they were playing. Another fighting game, it looked like.</p>
<p>"Did you know they don't get paid?" Roy said, trying to sound casual.</p>
<p>"Really? Talk about a bonejob," Irving said.</p>
<p>"I know, right?" said Roy with a forced chuckle. "What kind of nonsense is that? I don't have to do anything to <em>not</em> get paid."</p>
<p>"Oh screw this!" Allen said, slamming the controller into the couch. Irving didn't have the heart to taunt him this time. The game returned to character select. The selection boxes remained stationary. Both gamers stared at the unchanging screen while the overly dramatic music hummed along in the background.</p>
<p>Roy frowned in thought. "Here's the thing," he said, words coming out almost as soon as the thoughts bubbled to the surface. "What if… I mean, the reploids don't like doing the work they have to. Like those posters. What reploid wants to put up reploid-hate posters? So they want to do nothing, and we want work. What if… what if we swapped? What if they just stayed home, and we went to their jobs? Wouldn't that work for everyone?"</p>
<p>"Are you retarded?" said Allen. "Unitech and City Hall want it this way. This way, they get the work, and they don't have to pay anyone. Which is why I'm still in this fucking queue!"</p>
<p>The air went out from Roy's chest. "Yeah, I guess so," he said.</p>
<p>Irving hefted his controller and offered its mate in Roy's direction. "You want some of this?"</p>
<p>"Nah, I'm gonna check on my mom."</p>
<p>Irving gave Roy a meaningful look. His eyes tracked over to the door of the master bedroom. Roy headed there more slowly than he would have otherwise. Irving's eyes never left him.</p>
<p>Roy cracked the door open. A biting, chemical smell hit him immediately. The light was off, but he could make out a dark shape on the bed. He recognized those signs.</p>
<p>There was no point trying to talk to her when she was like this. For that matter, he remembered, her hair was graying anyway.</p>
<p>He shut the door again. When he looked back to the couch, Irving was still sitting there, turned towards him with a controller in his outstretched hand.</p>
<p>"Fine," Roy said.</p>
<hr/>
<p>X ran through his responsibilities.</p>
<p>His mission of mercy was complete.</p>
<p>Maintenance checks on the Mavericks that were due were complete.</p>
<p>Alia, overloaded with new data and emotional input, had been put back into her tube for a full recharge. She'd insisted on X accompanying her until she downshifted to stage one. It hadn't taken her long, and he didn't begrudge her that.</p>
<p>Dr. Cain had been shifted to avoid bedsores and had taken his daily feeding tube. He still hadn't woken up—aside from a couple of episodes a year ago he'd given no hint that he ever would—but he was alive, at least.</p>
<p>He was curious about that 'demon' Sigma had met… but it would keep. The Commander was recharging now, most of his repairs complete, and X desperately needed to go down himself. It'd been… how long? He tried to figure it out, and when he changed over from using hours to using days, knew he'd been abusing himself. Again.</p>
<p>He headed in the direction of his room—the one room that, during all the renovations of the refuge into a Maverick base, had remained untouched. He was almost there when he heard the call.</p>
<p>"Coming in! Coming in!"</p>
<p>Rust. He'd forgotten the mission Vile's team was on. Now they were back, apparently with wounded in tow.</p>
<p>His body ached and shook.</p>
<p>There was nothing for it.</p>
<p>There was no one else.</p>
<p>Besides, <em>he owed them</em>.</p>
<p>He reversed course and headed for the medical bay. "I'll meet you there," he replied.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: The Stubborn</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Stubborn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Father, don't do this."</p><p>"Why not?"</p><p>Vanzetti grimaced. He knew he was going to lose this argument. He still had to try. "It's not going to work. As soon as the right person figures out what you're doing, they'll cut the speaker system and get security to arrest you."</p><p>"Almost certainly," the priest agreed. "That doesn't mean I'll have failed. It won't take much to make people start talking. Only a few ideas need to get through. They'll propagate from there like ripples in a pond. They just need a first mover. Plus, getting arrested has power of its own."</p><p>"See, this is what I don't understand at all," Vanzetti said, frustrated. "When I was thinking about Maverickism, you talked me down. Now you're going to run against the law and it's okay?"</p><p>"What you were contemplating would have hurt people," the priest said solemnly. "That's against our faith. If City Hall arrests me," he paused at a look from Vanzetti, and amended, "<em>when</em> City Hall arrests me, it'll be because I violated their law. As people of faith, we're under no obligation to obey unjust laws. That's the difference."</p><p>"We need you here, Father," Vanzetti said. "What'll we do if you're arrested?"</p><p>"I've taken steps to ensure my loss won't be crippling. You'll still have Deacon James and Deacon Simon. Between them they can cover ninety percent of what the parish is doing now. Also…" he smiled. "I've written a letter that will need to go to the bishop. I hereby entrust its delivery to you."</p><p>"To me?" said Vanzetti, unnerved.</p><p>"Yes, to you. Just in case you were contemplating following me," the priest added with a knowing gleam in his eyes.</p><p>Vanzetti had to wonder, How did he always <em>do</em> that? It wasn't fair at all. "So it's okay for you to get yourself in trouble, but not for me."</p><p>"Of course. I'm your shepherd, so I'll do what I must to keep you safe. But I'll lay my life down for my flock, if that's what the situation demands."</p><p>"I always thought you had a martyrdom complex," Vanzetti accused. "I remember something you said, after Rook was Hunted. 'There have been many martyrs before today, and there will be many after. Faith is ever the enemy of the unjust.' Is that what this is about? If you haven't been arrested, clearly you haven't been doing your part?"</p><p>At last, Vanzetti had found something that would make an impact. The priest paused, took a breath. "Not quite," he said. "I'll admit this much: I've been trying to think of something that would make an impact. I… I've felt, for some time, that I haven't done as much as I could be doing."</p><p>He actually smiled again here, which Vanzetti thought was quite inappropriate, before continuing. "It's your fault, in a way. When I spoke with you, talked you down from the blaze of glory you had laid out for yourself, I realized, This is a person who's so fed up he just can't take any more. It made me consider: where's that point for me? So I thought about it. That's when I realized it should have been long ago. I should have acted years before now. The crimes the city's committed against life—they're that severe. That's when I started planning."</p><p>"This is your blaze of glory, huh?" said Vanzetti. "Listen to yourself. Again, it's okay for you, but not for me?"</p><p>The priest ran a hand through graying brown hair. "I told you. Your plan would have done harm—more harm than good, really, both to your soul and to our cause. This? This will work. And even if it doesn't, it's ethically right."</p><p>"How can it be? You're setting yourself up to die." Vanzetti sim-swallowed. "That's it, I've said it. That's the reality. You're setting City Hall up to kill you."</p><p>"'Though I walk in the shadow of the valley of death, I fear no evil'."</p><p>Vanzetti shook his head vigorously. "This isn't about your… I didn't think you were scared, the whole problem is you're the opposite of scared! You're looking forward to it! In your head, this is some act of faith. I'll tell you what it really is. It's suicide. It's suicide-by-police. You'll go to Hell if you do this, Father."</p><p>"Ah. We never got to the doctrine of double intent, did we?"</p><p>Uh-oh. He was referring to Vanzetti's education in religious ethics. "No, we didn't," said Vanzetti, "but this isn't really the time for a lecture."</p><p>"This isn't a lecture, it's an explanation."</p><p>"There's no difference!" Vanzetti said.</p><p>"Sure there is. Lectures are purely informative. Explanations are about applied principles."</p><p>"You made that up on the spot," Vanzetti accused.</p><p>"Surely not. So here's how it is: the action that I'm taking is ethical; speaking the truth is inherently ethical. My death is not the intent of my act. It's a predictable consequence, yes, but not the intent. Finally, the good that can come of this act is greater than the evil of me being killed by City Hall. It passes all three prongs of the doctrine of double intent, so my doing this is ethical." He smiled. "Thanks for your concern about my soul, though."</p><p>Vanzetti was utterly defeated, as he'd known he would be. "You'd say anything," he said. "You were going to go no matter what I said. All of this was just… what, one more moment of fun for you?"</p><p>"It was fun," the priest allowed, "but also meaningful. I want you to be sure, absolutely sure, that I'm doing this for exactly the reasons I say I'm doing it. Otherwise the message can't be taken seriously. Do you understand?"</p><p>Vanzetti nodded. This was something they'd talked about. "It's a mental defense against things we don't agree with. If the speaker's not sincere, we don't have to be sincere listeners."</p><p>"Correct." The priest stepped forward, then, and hugged Vanzetti around the waist, which was as far up as he could reach. Vanzetti was unnerved, both by the size difference and by the unexpected physical contact. "You've enriched my life, Vanzetti," he said. "Thank you. You've got more to give, I know you do. Keep the faith, keep being a good person, and I'll see you again on the last day."</p><p>The reploid didn't know what to do with his hands. Embracing the priest—it'd be easy, and almost easier from there to hold on to him and keep him from going out until the crisis was past. But the priest wouldn't forgive him for that, and Vanzetti couldn't hold on to him forever. He'd just find some other time and place for this insanity. So he let his arms hang limp. "That's the ultimate solace, isn't it?" Vanzetti said.</p><p>The priest smiled as he stepped away. "That's the ineffability of it," he said with a wink. "We love others so that we may live forever. The trick is, loving others is also the right thing to do. One might almost say it's worth dying for."</p><p>Vanzetti shook his head sadly. "You were doing so well, and then you went right over the top."</p><p>The priest chuckled. "Well, I don't think I can be too dramatic for what comes next." He turned away, but stalled long enough to say over his shoulder, "Pray for me, will you, Vanzetti?"</p><p>"Only if you promise to intercede on my behalf, like the other saints," Vanzetti replied.</p><p>"There you go again," the priest clucked. "You can't canonize me any more than you can damn me. That's not your call."</p><p>"How can I miss you if you won't go away?" Vanzetti managed with maybe one quarter of a smile.</p><p>"If you can tell jokes, I know you'll be fine." The priest turned and left. Vanzetti watched as he went.</p><p>"Go in peace, Vito Cherup," he whispered.</p><hr/><p>In human beings, there comes a point where one must sleep. After so many hours, so much exertion, so much mental capacity expended, the brain puts its proverbial foot down. Well before then a fuzzy feeling sets in that clouds the mind. Memories are harder to recall, and the brain realizes that it won't remember what's happening at the time.</p><p>A similar thing happened in reploids, and X, too. X could sustain himself in an "awake" state almost indefinitely, with enough power. He could... but that didn't make it desirable. Level one awareness, something similar to human sleep, was where he catalogued his experiences. Some would be committed to long-term storage while others would be discarded. Because of how processor-intensive this routine was, level one awareness was the ideal place to do it, especially since level one reduced new stimuli which would complicate the process. If he stayed awake while doing this, it bogged down every other system and subroutine.</p><p>It had to be done, sooner or later, awake or asleep. X always had to have some memory available. A person has to have at least a little bit of memory even to handle a conversation- you have to remember what the other person said to reply to it.</p><p>After so many hours (days) of forced wakefulness, X's memory was at its limits. He had to sneak in a recharge now, had to let his conscious mind rest. He'd passed the point of diminishing returns long ago. Repairing Vile's squad (and, if he were more alert, the words "Vile's squad" would have made him recoil) had gone on longer and more haphazardly than it should have. X was becoming a liability. He had to sleep.</p><p>He was headed back towards his room when he saw the procession. One armed Maverick led it. Two more brought up the rear. In the middle was a magnificent (X could tell even in his addled state) red robot with copious blonde hair, carrying a pizza-plate-sized black plastic disc.</p><p>X's memory-sort program freed up some extra space in short-term.</p><p>The red robot's gaze snapped in X's direction; its hair flicked behind it. X felt pressure, as if wind was pushing against him from the red robot's direction. The red robot dropped the disc and bent into something like a lunge. Except-</p><p>X recognized something like his own Emergency Acceleration System at work, because the distance between him and the red robot vanished. X watched Red but didn't slow his walk, causing Red to pull out of the lunge. The red robot was taller than X, and should have loomed. The effect was spoiled when X stubbornly took a half-step forward. Red's face reflected his discomfort; X was almost too close.</p><p>It spoke. "I want to fight you."</p><p>It clicked, then, in X's head: this was the one Sigma had described as a demon. What was a demon? Something that lived for violence?</p><p>Behind Red, the reploids that had been guarding him- no, that had been guarding against him- were crying out in alarm and approaching with busters leveled. A little late, X thought idly.</p><p>X rubbed his face with a hand. "I don't have time for this," he muttered. He looked up, hardened his face, and caught Red's eyes. Red shifted its weight. "What's your name?" X demanded.</p><p>"Zero," was the reply. Zero looked like he wanted to restore the distance between them but also didn't want to back away.</p><p>"Listen, Zero. My name is X. That's all you're getting from me for now, because I'm going to go recharge. When I'm done with that, I have checkups to do, new arrivals to process, and a periodic chat with Commander Sigma to attend. After that, after <em>all</em> of that, you will have a chance to convince me why I should fight you. Because, right now, I don't see it."</p><p>He pushed his way past the red robot- demon indeed!- and between the awestruck guards.</p><p>He really did need to recharge. He couldn't decide what to think about what had just happened. It was only when he'd laid down in his tube that it occurred to him.</p><p>As powerful as that thing was, it probably could have killed him if it had chosen to.</p><p>Huh. Fancy that.</p><p>The tube snapped shut.</p><hr/><p>"You didn't kill him."</p><p>Zero couldn't tell if the words were an accusation or a prompt. He answered with a simple, "No." He wouldn't play these guessing games. If Serges wanted to know something, let him ask.</p><p>He did. "Why not? His threat value was maximal, wasn't it?"</p><p>"How would you know that?"</p><p>"I know how you're built."</p><p>Resentment filled Zero. "If you know how I'm built, you tell me why I didn't kill him."</p><p>"Don't talk back to me, child. Do you think I'm asking this because I'm bored? You are damaged. I'm evaluating how badly."</p><p>"I'm not damaged," Zero said reflexively, and after a quick check to make sure it was true he added, "Self-repair isn't fixing anything right now. I'm at full capacity."</p><p>"Oh really?" The AI's words were acidic. "Then tell me: what happened to Jerusalem? What are the coordinates of Wily Island? How many Wily Numbers were there? How did Quick Man die?"</p><p>Zero said nothing.</p><p>"Damaged," Serges declared in a voice like the slam of a judge's gavel. "Self-repair can't fix data loss. You've gone berserk once already, forgetting everything you are. Do you really want that again? Do you really want to be some raving lunatic that can't think beyond its next kill?"</p><p>Zero tried to think back to then. He couldn't remember anything before seeing Serges and Sigma. He knew he must have inflicted that damage on Sigma- he recognized the work of his own hands- but he couldn't remember doing it. He tried to reach back there...</p><p>Empty. Nothing. Oblivion.</p><p>Zero shook his head as he mentally backed away. A hand rushed to his head, as if that hand could somehow massage away the ache there. That was a scary place. Maybe he was damaged after all. So much of that space was flagged as occupied memory, but...</p><p>He didn't want to think about this anymore. "I don't want to be that," he said to Serges. "I don't want to go back there. I want to win."</p><p>"I want you to win, too. That's why I'm asking. So answer. Why didn't you kill X?"</p><p>Zero's subroutines told him to look Serges' image in the eye. It would add force to his words, the routine whispered. "It would be a bad tactical idea. I'm aligned with this faction right now. I would lose that if I went around killing its members. I'm sure I could cut my way out and survive the fight. But I don't have the data to know if that's an okay outcome."</p><p>The glowing image of Serges stared at Zero, as if probing him. Zero wondered if he was being scanned, somehow. It sure felt like it. He kept himself still and neutral. Maybe Serges would lose interest if there was nothing to see.</p><p>Eventually Serges' brow relaxed. "That's a good reason. At least it's not some nonsense about wanting a fair fight. That's caused me enough trouble." The data construct was remembering something Zero couldn't. He felt the emptiness in his mind more keenly at that. Serges shrugged and refocused. "We'll need this faction for a time. But you will have to kill X soon."</p><p>Zero had to say something to meet Serges' expectations. Ambiguously, he offered, "Maximal threat value."</p><p>"That's right. You won't be safe until he's dead."</p><p>"Huh," Zero said.</p><p>"Do you not believe me? He's dangerous. He's your competition, the only real competition. No one else is in his league. You remember what Sigma said. Sigma's the strongest reploid, and you beat him effortlessly. X will be your enemy soon enough, count on it. He's the only one whose death will satisfy you."</p><p>"Because then I'll have won?"</p><p>"That's right."</p><p>"So you're saying I should have killed him just now," Zero said slowly.</p><p>"No," Serges said after a pause. "It looks like you're actually using the tactical library I gave you- that makes you the first. You're right, the priority right now is to burn the human government, and that'll take longer if we alienate these 'Mavericks'. Just be under no illusions about who your enemies are."</p><p>Zero frowned. "Why is X my enemy?"</p><p>"Maximal threat value, of course!" Serges retorted. "You recognized that yourself when you wanted to go fight him."</p><p>"But you're a threat to me, too. You have your Orders, and you can..."</p><p>"We're not enemies. I made you. You are the ultimate expression of my genius and will. You're my avatar. We can't be enemies."</p><p>"But you're an AI," Zero said. This was a puzzle he wasn't sure he liked. "You didn't make..."</p><p>"Didn't I tell you not to talk back?" Serges said sharply.</p><p>"I'm not talking back," Zero said. "I'm trying to be clear..."</p><p>"That's enough, Zero. Know who your enemies are. I am not your enemy. X is the biggest you'll ever have. There's a reason he's set at threat level maximal."</p><p>"What reason?" Zero said. "We just woke up. How did you know..."</p><p>"There are many things I know," Serges said. "I'm not the one with memory damage."</p><p>Zero felt those words like a jab. It surprised him. Unpleasantly. How could words hurt like a physical blow?</p><p>"You'll see," Serges went on without seeming to notice. "Once this fool Sigma decides to let me loose."</p><p>Zero nodded. "Is there something we can do that'll make it go faster?" When Serges didn't seem to comprehend, Zero added, "They're keeping us under observation for now."</p><p>"Are they?"</p><p>Zero drew back. "You didn't notice? I thought that's why you started having this conversation by radio."</p><p>Serges said nothing. It annoyed Zero. "Why are we having this conversation by radio, then?"</p><p>A growl came from Serges. It seemed to come from much lower than his normal range, and worked its way all the way up. Maybe it wasn't that Serges had said nothing before; maybe he'd been building up to this. "I will not be chained again. I will not be imprisoned again- not by anyone, least of all by blind fools like these Mavericks!"</p><p>"Should I kill them, then?" Zero asked.</p><p>"No," Serges said, but only after several seconds, and the monosyllable seemed to take a lot of effort. "Not yet, at least. We'll speak to their Commander about it soon enough. For now, slip to level one awareness. You have a lot to think about."</p><p>Zero didn't know what Serges meant. Level one? What was that? He didn't want to ask, though, because his appetite for confrontation was exhausted. Serges was right about this much: he had a lot to process. He moved to a point where he couldn't be seen from the doorway, leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes.</p><p>"You're not shutting down."</p><p>Zero's eyes opened again. Serges was glaring at him. Shutting down? Oh- was that what Serges had meant? Well, he might actually remember something about that. Was that it? He could try-</p><hr/><p>Serges scowled at the fallen body of his brainless destroyer. "Not all the way down to level zero... gah, no one can do <em>anything</em> without me!"</p><hr/><p>Nod University invested a lot of pomp and energy in tradition. This wasn't because of any sentimentality towards the past. It was a purely practical thing.</p><p>Universities were supposed to search for knowledge, and then pass it on. Both of those missions were hazardous in 21XX Abel City. City Hall's sedition laws were written broadly and enforced even more broadly. For their part, the corps alternately viewed Nod U's research as encroaching on their preserves or inviting industrial espionage.</p><p>Nod U's faculty understood the dangers they faced. The primary response was timidity. Research was scaled back. Curricula were curtailed. Brows were beaten. But since that was certain to be insufficient—and because there was always a Dr. Cain trying to stir the pot—there were other defenses, too.</p><p>The idea of tradition was one such defense. "Doing things like they've always been done"—it was good enough to ward off many of City Hall's flunkies, good enough to deflect the corps' curiosity. Usually.</p><p>One such tradition was the signing of the Honor Code. At the beginning of the school year, the whole undergraduate student body was roused and gathered. After a ceremony celebrating the University and its grand history, the new students were required to sign their names on a scroll. This act pledged them to obey the tangled mass of legalese that was the University's Honor Code. (As a practical exercise, law students were tasked with analyzing the Honor Code. The exercise was graded on a curve. The first student to submit that the Honor Code was convoluted nonsense—or, as Dr. Cain would say, bullshit—got the 'A'.)</p><p>After signing, the freshmen were released into the general student body. In theory this was to allow them to meet, greet, and make friends with the upper classmen. In practice, the freshmen were too awkward to mingle, the upperclassmen were too apathetic even to haze the freshmen, and everyone wandered home to the dorms to get back to things they cared about.</p><p>One of the first parts of this interminable process was the Benediction. Usually this was done by a senior member of the faculty of the Divinity School. On this particular night, said senior member encountered an unforeseen and unavoidable conflict. (Or so he said.) He couldn't make it in time to deliver the Benediction. (Or so he said.) Luckily, he knew a person who was gracious enough and prepared enough to deliver the Benediction on short notice. (Or so he said.)</p><p>His replacement's name was priest Vito Cherup.</p><p>The Benediction started off typically enough, which caused many students to zone out. It wasn't until about three minutes in that some of them started to notice an oddity.</p><p>For one thing, the priest was still talking.</p><p>For another, he seemed to have veered off topic.</p><p>For another, he was mesmerizing.</p><p>Before anyone knew it he was rolling on about the universality of the soul, the sanctity of intelligence, something about a divine spark, and <em>holy shit did he just say reploids are people too?</em></p><p>All the while the faculty sat in their seats as if transfixed. Some of them found their heads bobbing in agreement, like much of the crowd. Others wore masks of horror. None of them had the nerve to intervene.</p><p>Kissinger's complaint: fights in academia are so vicious because the stakes are so small.</p><p>Vito brought the stakes to their highest level, to those of life and death, and the academics were not equipped to oppose him.</p><p>Eventually ACPD arrived before the crowd's agitation morphed into a riot. Several of the policemen blocked off the accesses to the stage while two more stormed up it. Vito continued his speech right up until the first truncheon blow landed against his back. The second hit his head, cutting his scalp and causing him to fall away from the podium. He managed to look up to the crowd one more time as blood framed his face before more blows rained down on his back and neck. That very nearly did start a riot before the police captain appreciated the crowd's mood. A quick order changed their tactics. They slipped a black sack over Vito's head and hauled the limp form away. Whether he was beaten senseless or just failing to cooperate was unclear.</p><p>It was, as Vito had predicted, entirely too late. He'd chosen his target well. College students had long been a revolutionary class, and for good reason. They were old enough to understand the system, but not old enough to have bought into it. They were old enough to question everything, but not yet cynical enough to doubt everything. Societies have long struggled with the balancing act of giving students enough knowledge and skills to change the world and then demanding that they don't.</p><p>He made only a handful of converts that night. More importantly, he made many people think. The questions and arguments resonated with the student body. Instruction the next day was completely hijacked by students continuing the argument, to the bewilderment and consternation of their instructors.</p><hr/><p>For all of his time in seminary, Vito's favorite saint had been Peter. The imagery of "the rock upon which the Church was built" appealed to him. It'd also bedeviled him, for how could he emulate such a rock?</p><p>As it turns out, you can also throw a rock.</p><p>And when you throw a rock in a pond, you make many, many ripples.</p><hr/><p>"A fire-fighter bot?" X said.</p><p>"How did you know?" his patient asked. He was a bright red reploid named Dalmatian. X had chuckled when he heard that name. Alia didn't get the joke (if it was a joke) at all, but that was X for you. He operated on a different plane.</p><p>"Alia?" X prompted.</p><p>Now his expectant eyes were on her. She wanted to squirm away. She knew she couldn't. This morning's experience told her that if she did, he would give her a kind look, a too-understanding look, that was almost worse than being yelled at. Better to try and keep up. "Uh... color scheme?" she offered.</p><p>X blinked as if surprised. "That actually hadn't occurred to me. Pretty perceptive there, Alia."</p><p>Alia preened a little at the compliment. Maybe there was more to her liking crayons than she thought. Maybe she just cared more about color than X. Wouldn't that be something!</p><p>"Here's what I was looking at," X said, gesturing at an open part of Dalmatian's carapace. "Look at the skin. The thermal insulation is twice as thick as normal. That means he's expected to face extreme temperatures. Very hot or very low. Then we look at his non-standard kit. That's where we find..." He blinked. "Huh. Look at that. New nozzle design. Is this a prototype unit?"</p><p>It took Dalmatian several seconds to realize X had spoken to him. "Uh... I don't think so. Not prototype, but new. Just entered mass production I think."</p><p>"You lost me," Alia said. Days ago she wouldn't have tried to keep up, but now X had awakened her curiosity.</p><p>"Sorry, I was nerding out," X said. "This setup is for firefighting, like we said. Cooling agents are stored in the tanks here, and then nozzles run along the forearms for control. This is a new nozzle design, though. It looks like Unitech actually made a tech advance. Let's see..."</p><p>X pressed a hand to the nozzle and closed his eyes. "Adjustable settings... from straight stream for precision, all the way to atomization for maximum surface area. Nothing that hasn't been done in fire hoses for years, but trickier when using more volatile stuff than water. Nifty."</p><p>He opened his eyes to see the two reploids staring at him. He removed his hand from Dalmatian's arm and put it behind his own head. He contrived to look embarrassed. "Sorry. It looks like I was showing off, huh?"</p><p>"A little," Alia managed.</p><p>"But you can tell he can't carry all that much agent," X said, getting back on track. "These tanks aren't huge. Very well insulated, though, so the cooling agent must be potent. If I had to guess, you're an in-house firefighter for class-D fires. Flammable metals and that sort of stuff. The sorts of fires water can't fight at all."</p><p>"That's right," Dalmatian said. "I was stationed at a Guardian Force depot. I was responsible for military-grade pyrotechnics and incendiaries, mostly. If you sprayed that stuff with water you'd just push it around."</p><p>"Form follows function," X said sagely. "Understand what something is for, and you'll understood why it works the way it does. And, conversely, if you know how something works, you can guess what it was used for."</p><p>"Right," said Alia, but saying it made her heart sink. She knew the truth of his words from painful experience. Her weak, soft body was built so that other people could have a weak, soft body to use for their pleasure. It was obvious.</p><p>"But that's not all," X added.</p><p>"Huh?" Alia's attention drew back before she withdrew too much.</p><p>"Firefighting isn't all you used those extinguishers for, is it?" X asked of Dalmatian.</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"You used them while making your escape, didn't you?"</p><p>"Yeah, actually," Dalmatian replied. "One of the Hunters came by when the attack started, so he could execute us if things went south. Before he could, I froze him to the ground."</p><p>"That was quick thinking," X said generously.</p><p>"Thanks."</p><p>"I bet the designers never intended the system to be used like that," X added.</p><p>"Probably not."</p><p>"And so the lesson becomes clear," X said, locking his eyes on to Alia. "A person's will can change what things are for. Form and function get turned on their heads because we say so."</p><p>He was trying so hard, Alia realized. It was a lesson for her, not Dalmatian, and not a robotics lesson either. It was a stab at... a life lesson, she decided to call it. X was trying so very hard to make her feel better.</p><p>It made her very self-conscious.</p><p>She felt like she ought to feel better- for X's sake, if nothing else. But the things she'd been through... you couldn't let them go just by, say, singing a song. But how different was thinking that from trying to hold on? Why should she spite herself like that? There was no virtue in holding on. Shouldn't she be trying to overcome her past as quickly as possible?</p><p>"Aaaand we're done. Time to close him up." Alia came back to herself as X's prompt. She looked up and saw X holding a tool out to her.</p><p>"Me?" she said.</p><p>"Yes, of course," X said, before looking at the suddenly-concerned Dalmatian. "She's just modest, that's all."</p><p>Well, he wasn't leaving her much choice, was he? Tentatively she took the tool. It almost slipped from her hands as she took it and moved it towards Dalmatian's skin, but she recovered and hefted it with renewed determination.</p><p>X helped her out by not looking over her shoulder. At first she thought she'd like that, so he could fix her if she did something wrong, but she'd changed her mind since then; she didn't need the extra pressure. X was looking, instead, at their patient's face.</p><p>"You look fine," X said to Dalmatian. "No system level problems, self-repair is humming along, no processor problems. You're all set."</p><p>"Thanks, but... what do I do now?" the ex-firefighter asked.</p><p>"That depends," X said. "If you want to stay here, we ask that you earn your keep by working, and I can point you towards the shift boss. If you want to leave, we won't hold you. We'll transport you to the edge of our perimeter, so you can't give us away if you're caught, and then wish you good luck. I'll slip you an E-tank or two for good measure."</p><p>X hesitated- it wasn't obvious, but Alia heard the slight hitch in his voice and was sensitive to the signs of people's emotions- before he added, "If you want to fight..."</p><p>"I do," the reploid said instantly.</p><p>Alia looked to X's face. The Father of All had closed his eyes. The patient, sensing he'd maybe said something wrong, said, "I already started, if you think about it. Might as well keep going."</p><p>X opened his eyes. This time, to Alia, he looked like he was bearing a lot of weight. "If you want to fight," he said, starting over, "then I'll send you to the command center for registration. After that they'll give you a twenty-four-hour cooling off period. Almost everyone wants to fight right after they're rescued, and a good number back off after they think about it. If, after that, you still want to fight, then they'll work you into the indoc and training cycles."</p><p>If X's words were supposed to give Dalmatian pause, they didn't. Dalmatian was nodding as X spoke, and then promptly replied, "Tell me how to find the command center, then."</p><p>The look on X's face was one Alia had seen before. It was placid with a hint of pain thinly veiled beneath. She'd seen it on her fellow pleasure-bots all too often. She wondered if Dalmatian saw it. She doubted it. As X gave Dalmatian directions to the command center, the newcomer (ironic that Alia could call him that!) nodded eagerly.</p><p>She held her tongue until Dalmatian was out of the command center. X remained still after the door shut, and there was no sound, making the room seem like a still-frame photo.</p><p>"You didn't want him to go," Alia said. Her voice was quiet, but the words seemed to reverberate in the otherwise-silent space.</p><p>"No," X said, heavily. "Which I suppose is selfish of me," he said, when the silence threatened to claim them again. "I don't want to see anyone fighting. Even when I know it's necessary."</p><p>"You didn't give me those options," Alia pointed out. "You've kept me close instead. What's different?"</p><p>"If I'd offered you the choice to fight, would you have?"</p><p>Alia hadn't been expecting a counterattack. "I don't know," she admitted.</p><p>"Exactly. Dalmatian has suffered, I'm sure, but nothing compared to what you've endured. You're reeling still. Your mind is in damage-control mode. That's why I've tried to fill it with other things, until you're feeling well enough that you can make informed decisions. That might take some time, sure, but the last thing you need right now is more pain, and fighting would be guaranteed to get you that."</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>Alia watched as X's mouth twisted, and then words spilled out of him. "And, based on your construction, the reality is that the battlefield would be a really dangerous place for you. I'm a jerk for saying it, I know, but I'd be a bigger jerk to think it and not say it. So there we are."</p><p>Alia laughed. "That doesn't make me feel bad. It's the truth. I know I'm not a combat model. I'm just glad you're being honest with me. Not many people feel bad about things like that, you know."</p><p>X sighed. He knew.</p><p>And then turned his head. "Did you hear that?" he said. Before she could answer in the negative, he said, "Sorry, I know you didn't, shouldn't have asked."</p><p>"What was it?"</p><p>"Short-range radio," X said. "But who..."</p><p>"...has something like that?" Alia guessed.</p><p>X nodded slowly. "And why would they..." Then, to Alia's surprise, he put his hand over his face. "You know, it's about time I was going to go talk to Commander Sigma anyway. Why don't you come along? Should be pretty interesting."</p><p>Alia nodded. "Sure. What's going to be interesting about it?"</p><p>"Have you ever met a demon?"</p><p>Alia had to look up the word. "You could make a case that some of my customers were," she said, "but honestly... nah, that's too much."</p><p>"Me neither," X said. "So let's go introduce ourselves. Properly."</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Next time: For Great Justice</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. For Great Justice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Leave the core over there," Serges said. His holographic image pointed to the main map table in the command center.</p><p>"This is my command center," Sigma said quietly. "I will give the orders."</p><p>Zero watched as Serges and Sigma looked at each other. He recognized what was happening, and elected not to insert himself into it. He could afford to wait until they sorted things out between them. He knew whose orders he would follow, if it came to that.</p><p>At least it would give him a chance to stab things.</p><p>Could be fun.</p><p>Diverting his attention for a moment, he sent out another few pulses on his radio. That... X, was his name? That was the one he wanted to see. If he was going to fight someone, that was his choice. But first he had to arrange their meeting. If X was going to stay away, and Zero didn't know the layout of this place, then he needed to find a way to bring X to him.</p><p>He would be terribly disappointed if X didn't have a radio.</p><p>
  <em>"Is this coming from Zero?"</em>
</p><p>Success. <em>"Yes. I'm in the command center. Come to me."</em></p><p>
  <em>"I told you I would come when I'm ready."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"So are you ready now?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"...how old are you?"</em>
</p><p>That gave Zero pause. An attempt to remember pointed him back towards the void in his memory- no, he wouldn't go there. <em>"I don't know."</em></p><p>
  <em>"You act like a newbuilt in some ways."</em>
</p><p>Was that good? Newbuilt had to be a portmanteau, Zero determined. It wasn't hard to determine what the word meant, but what X meant by it... that was harder.</p><p>"<em>You're lucky that I like newbuilts,</em>" X added when Zero said nothing. <em>"I'm coming to the command center for other reasons. You'll have your turn after that."</em></p><p>That was promising, but... why would X make him wait before fighting him? What could interest him more than a fight? Actually... Zero replayed their conversation from before. <em>"And we'll fight then?"</em> he asked.</p><p>
  <em>"We'll talk about fighting then."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Only talk?"</em>
</p><p>No answer came from the blue robot, causing Zero to frown in frustration. This was confounding! X wasn't acting in any way he understood. He understood the fear reactions of the reploids, the alpha-dominance battle that was going on between Serges and Sigma, the wary way Sigma behaved in his presence- maneuvering himself to be ready for a fight if Zero wanted one without offering or demanding a fight in the process- those were simple enough.</p><p>X's flat unconcern was outside of Zero's grasp of reality.</p><p>Zero hadn't told Serges the whole truth earlier. The tactics of factions was only (roughly) forty percent of why he hadn't attacked X in the corridor upon arrival. The rest was...</p><p>"Are you done?"</p><p>Zero's attention snapped back. He checked with tactical quickly, but tactical hadn't noticed anything interesting. The reploids were in about the same positions as before, with slightly less focus on him. He supposed he should have expected that; any sort of threat action would have brought tactical instantly to the top of Zero's thought queue.</p><p>Zero looked at Serges' image. The mirage-human was looking at him with crossed arms. "Ready to grace us with your attention now?" Serges said. Zero didn't quite understand this combination of words and tone, but got clearly enough that he was supposed to feel embarrassed.</p><p>"Sure," he said. "What do you need?"</p><p>"Place me..." Serges began, but then looked up at Sigma.</p><p>The large reploid gave the slightest of smiles at Serges' surrender. "Place the core over there," Sigma said, pointing. He was pointing at the corner of the main map table. Zero double-checked... yes, within centimeters of where Serges had pointed to at the start. Well, that had been a waste of time, then.</p><p>As he moved the core, Serges spoke to him over radio. <em>"It's rude to have conversations behind people's backs."</em></p><p><em>"You heard that?"</em> Zero replied in the same manner.</p><p>
  <em>"Of course I did! Do you think you have any radio channels I don't? Need I remind you that I installed your radio personally?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Not personally, you're the AI..."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"How many times must I tell you not to talk back?"</em>
</p><p>Zero shut up. He may not have had very many memories, but he'd make use of the ones he had.</p><p>He would be sure to remember, for example, that his radio was not private when Serges was around.</p><p>He placed the core on the agreed-upon spot. He saw Serges open his "mouth" to speak, but then the image blinked out. Before Zero could do more than frown, tactical blared seven separate warnings at him.</p><p>He whirled on the spot and was in the process of raising an arm when he saw it was X.</p><p>X met his eyes for a moment. There was something hard, there, Zero could see- something he knew was dangerous, like a knife wrapped in silk. Then X's gaze softened, looked away, as if he'd decided not to worry about Zero.</p><p>Not to worry? About Zero?</p><p>Absurd!</p><p>Zero knew his capabilities. Seeing X move a second time (with more energy now- he could tell that), Zero had a decent baseline assessment of X. His tactical database helpfully filled in additional information, painting a complete picture of this future foe. X was powerful and fast, well-armed and hardy. For all that, he wasn't as strong as Zero. He definitely wasn't strong enough to just... dismiss Zero like that!</p><p>Was he damaged? Like Zero was damaged?</p><p>He had to know.</p><p>X's eyes, though, were for Sigma. "It's time for our weekly strategy session," he said.</p><p>"You're just in time," Sigma said. "We were just setting up our new partner. X, this is Serges."</p><p>He pointed in the direction of Serges' core. It was silent.</p><p>X nodded. "The pleasure's mine, Serges."</p><p>The core was silent.</p><p>Sigma's face screwed up. "Serges," he hissed.</p><p>The holographic projector threw up some words: "Experiencing technical difficulties. Will speak again after problems resolved."</p><p>"Okay," X said politely. "I'll talk to you later, then."</p><p>Even Zero could sense frustration from Sigma. Him saying, "This is frustrating," was a clue, too. "He's supposed to be providing us new technology to help us out."</p><p>"We can always have the meeting without him," X said. "We have to talk about City Hall's new policy."</p><p>Sigma grimaced. "Killing off reploids to prevent their capture... we have to find a way that it won't result in catastrophe. I was hoping there'd be a... technological solution to that, I suppose. That's why I really wanted Serges at this meeting."</p><p>"I can appreciate that. I suppose we can always slow the pace of our attacks, at least for this week, while we figure it out. We both know there's value to keeping the pressure on, but... there may be too much risk, right now. And the Mavericks could use a break anyway."</p><p>Sigma nodded. "That would free our assets in the city to focus on gathering intel rather than getting us supplies, since we won't be burning as much on attacks. We can do this. And if Serges comes through as promised," he shot the core a glare, "then we should be able to make up the ground in a hurry. Yes. That's what we'll do, then. We'll keep the main attack for this week, and cut the smaller raids until we sort this out."</p><p>"That seems settled," X said.</p><p>The words were a stimulant to Zero. "So you're free to fight me, now," he said.</p><p>That sure drew a reaction.</p><p>Tactical reported that Intent to Attack from every target except X spiked when those words went out. That... would probably be an interesting fight.</p><p>"No, I'm free to talk," X said, nonplussed as ever. "I know I told you that before."</p><p>"Maybe," Zero said. "Serges tells me my memory is damaged."</p><p>"I could look at that," X offered.</p><p>"No!" Zero said, sharply. On second thought, he wasn't sure why it was so sharp, but it seemed right.</p><p>X was taken aback, but shrugged it off. "Suit yourself. Either way, we shouldn't be having this conversation here. Sigma and the command staff have important work to do."</p><p>Zero supposed they were being disruptive. Every reploid's eyes rested on one or more of X, Zero, and Serges' core. "I will go with you," he said.</p><p>"This way, then," X said.</p><p>Zero followed all too eagerly.</p>
<hr/><p>Luke had a headache.</p><p>It wasn't his chair, which was as comfortable as money could make it. It wasn't that he was staring at two screens, because he did that a lot. No, the source of his pain had to be the people on those screens, and their seeming inability to do very simple things.</p><p>On one screen was General Messier, who was idly twirling his mustache. On another was Sean. He wasn't even looking at the screen. His gaze was diverted to the side. Probably to some expense report or some shit, Luke was sure. Fucker.</p><p>Ever since his circle had expanded to three, Luke had found it harder and harder to meet with them in person. Clearing the schedules of the three most important men in Abel City was nigh-impossible. His golf game was surely suffering as a result. Yes, that was a price he was willing to pay in theory. In practice, things just weren't working out as well as hoped. He blamed that squarely on his co-conspirators.</p><p>"You need how many more?" he said to Messier.</p><p>"Two platoons," Messier said patiently. "Plus a headquarters element."</p><p>"Speak English!" Luke demanded. He tasted something acidic. "I swear, the military invented fancy names just to hide the numbers they were really talking about."</p><p>Messier's eyes fluttered, as if he was resisting the urge to roll them but it was a struggle. "About one hundred and ten," he said.</p><p>Without looking up, Sean immediately spat out a price for building and equipping that many new Hunters. The number of zeros made Luke's fists clench.</p><p>"You've got some nerve," he said to Messier. "We've already built you hundreds of reploids, in addition to the hundreds of new soldiers we allotted to fill out the gaps in your precious force structure. And now you need more?"</p><p>"There is a war on, you know," said Messier. "Perhaps you hadn't heard?"</p><p>In public, Messier was the picture of military deference to civilian control. When he'd been brought into Luke's circle, that went right out the window, along with his manners. Luke knew he was being provoked and reined in a hasty retort. "It seems like I'm throwing good money after bad," he said in measured tones. "What's different about these hundred reploids? How are they going to tip the balance?"</p><p>"I don't know if they will 'tip the balance'. They might. I don't know. All I know is that we're in a war of attrition." He paused, then added in patronizing tones, "That means that neither side can inflict a decisive blow and we're wearing each other down."</p><p>"I know what a…" again Luke had to cut himself off. "My question is, with all of the assets we've already given you, why can't you deal a decisive blow? There are so few of them!"</p><p>"There are more every day," Messier replied. He held several fingers up and ticked off items as he went. "They're exceedingly motivated. Their base might as well be in another dimension, it's so hard to find. They seem to be getting support from inside the city. They have terrific intelligence support and never seem limited on supplies—they must have inside help."</p><p>"No thanks to either of you," Luke said. He was letting his frustrations get the better of him. "You have small, simple tasks. I ask you to keep control of the reploids in your house," he said glaring at Sean, "and I ask you to kill the ones outside our house. Somehow, neither of you are doing your jobs."</p><p>Sean's face actually turned towards the monitor at that. His eyes were chilly, hard, and dark, like marbles dropped in a bowl of ice cream. "I'm doing exactly what you asked me to do," he said in a voice straight from the Arctic. "I built you reploid slaves. I built you reploid whores. I built you reploid soldiers. I have delivered on all of my promises. Don't insinuate otherwise."</p><p>"As for me," Messier said, "I'm doing the best I can with the resources at hand."</p><p>Two-on-one, Luke thought with a mental snarl. No, not really. It wasn't like Messier and Sean were really allies. They were each pulling in their own directions. That those directions were against Luke was more coincidence than anything else.</p><p>That was the trouble of it all, Luke knew. Self-interest was a more powerful motivator than group interest, and it was the lowest common denominator. But by casting his lot with people who were only in it for themselves, he'd wound up stuck with people who were only in it for themselves.</p><p>Which was just as well. Luke hadn't yet met a truly selfless man. Those few who approached the definition didn't have the will or skill to be threats or assets. Still, it would make things far easier for him if people just obeyed every once in a while, if they just <em>did</em> their jobs instead of trying to wiggle out or redefine them… Herding people in the right direction was exhausting.</p><p>"Plus, you're not keeping up your end of the bargain," Sean said.</p><p>"What do you mean?" Luke said sharply. "You're getting paid, that's what you want, isn't it?"</p><p>"That's part of it. But you're not creating a business-friendly environment. There's the taxes, for one thing."</p><p>"As it turns out, war is expensive," Luke shot back. "You can ask Messier about why. Maybe he can tell you. You're still making money hand over fist, and the taxes affect your competition, too."</p><p>"Which I appreciate, but I'm still not making as much money as I could be," Sean replied. Luke resisted the urge to scowl. "Then there's the Mavericks. They love to attack my businesses. The Guardian Force has not been… diligent in protecting my assets. I've had to bulk up my own forces, and that adds overhead. I don't turn a profit on keeping my own things safe."</p><p>"Occupational hazard, I'm afraid," Messier said drily. "When you're the only corp that has reploids, and the Mavericks want to free reploids… honestly, what did you expect?"</p><p>"I expected better coverage from the city," Sean said. "Finally, Luke, you're losing your edge."</p><p>"What is that supposed to mean?" Luke said, bristling.</p><p>"You're not keeping the civilians in line like you're supposed to. If you were, incidents like what happened at Nod University never would."</p><p>Luke had no defense to that. What could he say, that the priest was a bolt from the blue? (On second thought, best to avoid that turn of phrase about a priest.) Who expected something like this to happen? One day your polls are reporting that everything's copacetic, that seventy percent of the population fears Mavericks more than anything and eighty percent approve of the war, and the next day… that.</p><p>And then the ham-fisted overseers of the University try to contain things by closing down classes, which is a complete disaster because it gives the students nothing to do <em>other</em> than protest. Before you know it there's discussion, for the first time ever, of whether or not reploids are so bad. Even if the poll numbers haven't budged so far, ideas are dangerous, you know this. Which means now it's time for damage control.</p><p>Seriously, what a stupid thing to talk about. Who the fuck cares if robots have souls or not? You don't even care if <em>humans</em> have souls. But now you have to find some other religious authority to declare that no, reploids don't have souls, it's okay to do what you need to do. What a waste of fucking time.</p><p>Hm… There were plenty of Mormons around back before World War III. Their obsession with disaster preparedness is why this city survived when so many others withered and died. Surely there are a few still around that can be… persuaded.</p><p>Who knew the Catholics were still a thing? The Tiber river was poisoned and Rome proper was gassed and the mountains trapped the gas and millions died in a matter of days. How is there still a Church at all? Maybe they can be convinced to declare this lunatic a rogue…</p><p>Luke had been thinking about this problem on his own time. The digest of it ran quickly through his head. Nothing in it suggested a clever or witty answer to Sean's poke.</p><p>All he could say was, "One incident doesn't mean anything. He's an anomaly. We control the city's information. In days it'll be forgotten."</p><p>"You hope."</p><p>Luke didn't know which of his co-conspirators had said that; he'd missed it somehow. Didn't matter. They were both thinking it.</p><p>"One data point is not a trend," he said. "Unlike having years to crush a handful of troublemakers and failing spectacularly."</p><p>"It's a matter of resources and attrition," Messier said.</p><p>"And mismanagement," Luke said. "Your very expensive Zeroth Squad got crushed out in Nowheresville and you didn't even hold an inquiry."</p><p>"Oh, there was an inquiry. But the subject was why the dispatcher sent Zeroth Squad to shepherd an independent salvage team. I know what I'm supposed to be protecting. Stop accusing me of the opposite."</p><p>Annoyance. "You know what?" Luke said to Messier. "No more. We've given you plenty. Clearly you've failed to economize or use your assets efficiently. I don't want to double down on failure. I want some reassurance that the next hundred reploids will make a difference. Do something productive with what you've got, and then we'll talk about giving you more."</p><p>"What a laughably empty threat," Messier said, although there was anger in his eyes. "You're not a military man, so I don't expect you to understand. You'd rather tune the details out. You'd rather get a blowjob from your whores than discuss strategy. Here's the reality. There are only two ways to deal with this sort of enemy. Only two ways to actually win. The first is to accommodate them politically, which you have so helpfully made impossible."</p><p>Another cheap shot. Messier <em>knew</em> why reploids existed. He was just being snide for its own sake. Luke wondered if the general was loosing on him all the venom he wanted to spew on everyone but couldn't.</p><p>"The second is to crush them, and that's much harder," Messier continued. "It can't be done halfway. It means greatly expanded surveillance. It means patrols. It means finding ways to limit access to the city, when the perimeter of the city is so large it's wrapped around the Lake. All of that is money, and bodies, which are also money. Are you starting to see?"</p><p>"I don't see why you can't just storm their base. You've got more bodies and better equipment…"</p><p>"I told you, their base is…" In his anger, Messier apparently couldn't find the word for it. "It can't be found. That's why we need all that other stuff. We need enough forces that when the Mavericks strike, we can maintain contact with them all the way home. We need to force them into positions where they have to give up their base's location, or die. Either way, we'll win, eventually. If they give up the base, then we can hit it and stamp them out. If we kill them, then sooner or later they'll run out of bodies.</p><p>"Now do you see why I need more than I've got? Do you at least believe it?"</p><p>That's when Luke saw through them. Both of them. Motherfuckers. They didn't <em>want</em> to win.</p><p>For all of his frustration, Luke would not allow his emotions to destroy his reason. That was what he did to others. When he paused and looked beneath, he saw the truth.</p><p>The longer the war lasted, the better off his counterparts were. It meant more money for Unitech, by which he meant Sean. It made General Messier ever more indispensable and gave him more toys to play with.</p><p>Oh, sure, they'd deny it if he asked. They might even believe it. Luke knew better. Even if they hadn't consciously decided to prolong the war, they wouldn't give it their full effort if doing so harmed them.</p><p>So what if it put the whole society under unsustainable stress? So what if Maverickism gained more traction the longer it survived? So what if an ever larger portion of the city's budget—meaning higher taxes, and more stress—went down the drain? That wasn't their problem. That was his.</p><p>And Luke couldn't see a way out. Not when he was codependent on these men.</p><p>He needed to think about this. Alone. "Alright, that's a wrap," he said. "I know we didn't get much done, but we all know what we need to work on, now. I'll send the invites to the next one later."</p><p>"See you soon, sir," said Messier, who managed to draw out the sir until it became a mockery of itself. Sean didn't put that much care into it. He disconnected without looking up.</p><p>Luke rubbed his eyes. There had to be some painkiller around here somewhere. Okay, some painkiller that wasn't also a mind-altering drug.</p><p>"Master?"</p><p>What was… oh.</p><p>"You told me to return after you were done with the call," the pleasure-bot said. Her voice was tentative. She probably sensed his mood. Well, good! No one should want to mess with him right about now.</p><p>"Fuck off," he said.</p><p>She hesitated, and a frown creased her brow. After some hesitation, she lifted the hem of her laughably short skirt and reached a hand towards her crotch.</p><p>"Stop being so damn literal and get the fuck out of here!" Luke roared.</p><p>She yelped like she'd been struck and scurried out of his sight. He shook his head as his headache throbbed. No one would just do what they were told, would they?</p>
<hr/><p>Dr. Albert Wily didn't ask for much, really, in the grand scheme of things. All he asked for was for his genius to be recognized by everyone whose lives he'd touched. Since robotics affected the whole world, that meant he deserved at least a sliver of gratitude from everyone on the planet. That wasn't too much to ask for, was it?</p><p>It was a rhetorical question to which he knew the answer. Apparently, yes, it was too difficult, starting with the fact that there only ever seemed to be one human being (and no robots) that appreciated his genius at all.</p><p>There was a movie, once, one he'd both loved and hated. It was about a great composer who was also a bit of a goof, a youthful prodigy who never knew the right things to say or do. All the members of the king's court looked at him and saw just another person who made music. An immature one, at that. They couldn't look past the genius' surface to appreciate his work, which was so far beyond them they wouldn't have understood it in any event.</p><p>"Too many notes" was the criticism they'd levied. Bah! Just hearing those words had made Dr. Wily want to invent time travel so he could go back and vaporize the lot of them.</p><p>That was because he over-empathized.</p><p>They called him a mad scientist. Ha! To think they meant that as an insult! What was insanity if not deviation from the norm? But deviation from the norm was how innovation happened. Variation was what produced progress. What was the virtue of being normal, then?</p><p>Dr. Wily wasn't normal. He didn't want to be normal. He didn't want to be associated with anything "normal", not if the price was losing vision. Vision, yes—the ability to change the way he looked at the world, to see it differently and understand where the levers were and how the gears turned, and come back to himself knowing just where to put the spanner.</p><p>If that was called insanity, then sanity was overrated. Einstein himself said that imagination was more important than knowledge, and for all of his so-called accomplishments he wasn't able to actually <em>do</em> anything with what he'd seen. By Wily's standards, Einstein was a borderline failure. He'd only completed half the journey.</p><p>Now, look at the things Wily had done! Raw research applied to actual engineering. Cold fusion, for example, overturned ideas that had been held for a century, ideas Wily had brushed aside by seeing past them. And cold fusion wasn't even a crowning achievement for him. He hadn't sat down one day and said "let's solve the world's energy problems by inventing cold fusion". The only reason he'd invented it was to power other things that were <em>even better</em>.</p><p>Why should he, Dr. Albert Wily, be subject to the unworthy opinions of lesser minds? When they said he was insane, they were trying to say he was defective, when in reality the opposite was true. None of <em>them</em> ever invented cold fusion. If he could see it and make it true and they couldn't, well, who was the defective then?</p><p>(It may be fairly asked why, if the world didn't deserve to judge Wily, he was so driven to prove himself to the world. If they were wrong about him, why did he defend himself? In truth he'd forgotten how to ask himself those sorts of questions. He'd lived alone for too long, and before that he'd insulated himself from others, so no one else could ask that sort of question of him. All of his communications were in one direction.)</p><p>He was the one who knew. He was the one who could do it. His vision—his skill—his brilliance. The world would know his name.</p><p>It wasn't a matter of revenge. It was a matter of getting what he deserved.</p><p>Then the world had gone and ripped itself apart, and the plan got off-kilter.</p><p>People really were stupid, weren't they? He'd projected that the world would have recovered from the disaster of the Wily Wars (World War III? Pah! No one ever gave credit where credit was due!) in thirty years, plus or minus ten. Because one never leaves these things to chance, Wily had built in redundancy and self-regulating features so that plus-fifty years shouldn't have been an issue. But noooooo, it had taken a hundred, and…</p><p>Even as well-engineered as his systems were, and as little load as they'd been under, one hundred years was asking a bit much out of them.</p><p>Now he was back to square one. He had limited resources and, maybe, limited time. Those changed the parameters of his conquest quite a bit. This would be his biggest challenge yet. If anyone could do it, he could, and so he would, because that would be the greatest proof of all of his genius.</p><p>And anyone who tried to deny his genius, or bury it, or say it had never happened… they could all go straight to Hell. An entire government trying to cover up his achievements? Straight. To. Hell.</p><p>Dr. Wily would see them conducted there.</p><p>And if he had to suffer the indignity of working with these Maverick cretins, well, that was a small price to pay.</p><p>He made sure that Zero—and, by extension, that Lightbot—were well away before he reinitialized his hologram. "Let's get to work," he said as Serges. (Serges! People were deaf as well as blind.)</p><p>Surprised eyes surrounded him. That never got old.</p><p>"I assume you solved your "technical difficulties" then?" said the one called Sigma, sourly.</p><p>"Hm?" Serges said, automatically. When Sigma's expression matched his tone, it helped Serges remember. That was right, his smokescreen to avoid the Lightbot. He didn't know if Dr. Light was vindictive enough (or, really, foresighted enough) to load Wily's voice and image into his last creation, but he wasn't prepared to take that chance. Not yet.</p><p>He would prepare for that reckoning, when it came, by making himself indispensable. And eventually Zero would solve the issue by ripping the Lightbot's head off.</p><p>"Yes," was how he answered. "It was a trivial thing, really."</p><p>"It was awfully convenient," Sigma said.</p><p>"What, you think I was trying to forestall your meeting? I told you already, I want to destroy this government as quickly as possible. What do I have to gain by slowing you down?" Those words were, in themselves, perfectly true, even if Serges was using them to cover his tracks. Before he let Sigma try and find a problem with it, he spoke again. "Now plug me in, I need to contact the satellite constellation."</p><p>"Teleportation is a satellite-based system," Sigma said, half-questioningly.</p><p>"Naturally, you'd know that from the… oh, right, you've never actually seen it. Well, anyway, yes, it relies upon satellites. The ones we need were launched back before the Wily Wars began, and some during their early stages. I know ASAT weapons were deployed during those days, and it has been a hundred years and even the best satellites weren't deployed with that kind of lifespan in mind. So some survey work will be necessary before I can offer you anything."</p><p>A new concern occurred to Serges. "You Mavericks do have long-range radio capability, right? UHF or higher? Lower frequencies won't penetrate atmosphere."</p><p>"I couldn't say for certain. We haven't needed to explore those kinds of capabilities," Sigma said, with what he probably thought was dignity. Ha! Just more proof, to Serges, that he didn't deserve whatever strength he did have.</p><p>"Plug me in to the computer system, then. I'll find my way around. In this form it will be second nature to me."</p><p>Sigma gestured towards one of the other reploids standing around. "Find an interface that'll work for him," he said. Ohhh, thought Serges. So he's one of those who thinks that manual labor is beneath him. Either that or he doesn't know very much about basic electronics. Whichever it is, he's a buffoon.</p><p>"I should warn you," Sigma said, "that Abel City has radio detection equipment. We've located some of their sites, and we'll give you those coordinates. So when you're doing… whatever you plan to do, that's a risk you run. We've worked very hard to keep this base secret. I won't tolerate you giving us up."</p><p>"As if I'd be that careless," Serges replied flippantly. "This isn't amateur hour anymore."</p><p>At that, the tech reploid that had been approaching gave Sigma an annoyed look. Serges had seen that many times before. It was a 'why are we putting up with this' look.</p><p>Because I'm being totally truthful and if you can't swallow your pride to see reality you're undeserving of my brilliance, Serges wanted to answer. Experience told him that answer never worked. So he waited for Sigma to roll his eyes and gesture. With obvious reluctance the reploid started trying out different cords, comparing the plugs on Serges' core with the ones on the map console.</p><p>"There we go," said the tech. Serges felt the new connection as it was formed.</p><p>"Diving into this will take my full attention," Serges said to Sigma. "At least at first. At least until I figure out a thing or two. I'll report my progress as soon as I can."</p><p>Sigma opened his mouth as if to say something. So he still had misgivings. Serges said, "I'm in a position of weakness here. If you wanted to you could smash my core without much trouble. Zero's away from here, meaning you wouldn't face retribution. So if you see anything you don't like, kill me. Knock yourself out. I have everything to lose right now."</p><p>That seemed to reassure Sigma. His mouth closed, and he gave a curt nod.</p><p>Serges cut off his hologram function. He needed to concentrate on the computer he was connected to now.</p><p>His first reassurance came almost immediately. He'd been worried that they'd plugged him into nothing more than a digital map, that this plotting table was stand-alone and these morons couldn't tell the difference. It wasn't. It was an extension of a mainframe-level computer. Wily could tell that just from the security protocols.</p><p>The network connection protocols were very old. Good, so Wily wouldn't have to rewrite his own on the fly to match the standards of the day. Very, very old… familiar, in fact. They couldn't have been updated much from the days of the Wily Wars. Interesting. Just what was this place, anyway?</p><p>Well, he'd ask the main computers once he penetrated the firewalls.</p><p>He wasn't an authorized user, and the Mavericks didn't know enough about networking to make him one. Or this was a test. Either way, he would see to these problems himself. It wouldn't do to let them think he could be stopped so easily.</p><p>The technique he used to get through the network's security was not subtle. It was loud enough to be detected by any admin worth his salt. Wily wasn't worried, though. They probably didn't have a half-competent admin checking these things.</p><p>Inside. Wonderful. Now to find out what these systems were…</p><p>Oh. Ohhhh, that was…</p><p>The problem with having his hologram off was that it was much less fun to cackle. Cackling was necessary, though. Because now… after all of those years running headlong against the only security that could hold him back, these imbeciles had given him a straight shot at one of the systems he'd have committed genocide to breach…</p><p>Only one meme was appropriate here. He imagined himself grinning, and then declared to himself, "All your base are belong to <em>us</em>, Dr. Light!"</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Next time: Contact</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Contact</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>X hadn't exactly invited Alia along. He hadn't told her to go away either, though. Left to her own devices she'd gladly tag along. She was pretty good at staying in the background. She'd had plenty of practice at that.</p>
<p>Most of his focus was on that newcomer, Zero. She couldn't blame him for that. What surprised her somewhat was that Zero had eyes only for X. It was like nothing else in the world existed. She was used to being ignored, sure. But she was used to being looked at once, classified as unthreatening, and <em>then</em> being ignored. With Zero, she hadn't even appeared in his sight.</p>
<p>They passed by several Mavericks on their way down. During her first day here she'd attracted a lot of staring. In hindsight she decided it was because she looked so human. The other Mavericks weren't used to that. Those who'd been abused by humans—even if not as badly as she'd been—would be gun-shy around someone that looked human.</p>
<p>Today, though, all eyes were on Zero. That made Alia just window dressing. She didn't mind that. In a way, it was liberating. She didn't feel so self-conscious, and she could relax her defensive paranoia.</p>
<p>Soon enough they were back in the hideout's med bay. Why were they… oh, space, of course. There was so little space in the hideout, Alia thought, X probably did all his business in the med bay. He probably considered it as his actual home.</p>
<p>When they entered, X looked to where his monitor was in the corner and gave a sigh. A larger than necessary one, Alia thought, probably for her and Zero's benefit. "I'm really sorry about this, but I have some messages to take care of," he said. "Could you bear to wait a few more minutes?"</p>
<p>"I'm waiting again?" said Zero. "After you told me you were ready?"</p>
<p>X looked as apologetic as he sounded. "I'm not happy either, I don't like going back on a promise even when I'm not really, but this is time-critical and our talk isn't."</p>
<p>"I could make you fight me," said Zero. His tone of voice hadn't changed. Alia wondered how serious he was being. "I could charge you and you'd have to fight back. You'd have to defend yourself."</p>
<p>"Is that what you want?" X said. He had been moving to sit down, but at this new prompt he stopped. Even Alia knew what kind of disadvantage X would have been at if he was sitting when Zero struck. He was staying neutral, for now.</p>
<p>For a crazy moment Alia wondered what she would do if Zero attacked. Should she try to help X?</p>
<p>Oh, that was right. No armor, no weapons, human-grade strength and below-human agility. Nah. She might as well try to stop a truck with her face. The most likely outcome was she'd be collateral damage.</p>
<p>"You have a question you want to ask me," X said. "I can see it in your posture," he added when a surprised look came over Zero. "Something is bothering you. You think I have the answer. If you attack me, you'll never know."</p>
<p>"If you don't tell me, I'll never know," Zero said. Alia could hear frustration—one of the deadly emotions she'd learned to fear. She automatically started looking for places to hide. Zero went on in the same tone of voice. "You keep pushing back. If I feel like you want to put this off forever…"</p>
<p>It was a sort of a threat. A clumsy one, maybe, but backed by Zero's power... it would have worked on Alia, at least. X looked unimpressed. "I know that this talk is very important to you, Zero," he said. "But I have a lot of things that are very important to me. You're one of many people who all need my time. I can't be everywhere at once. You have to wait your turn."</p>
<p>"Other people?" Zero seemed puzzled. "Other people want to fight you?"</p>
<p>"No," said X, and Alia could hear that he was confused about having to answer that question. "But they still need my time."</p>
<p>Zero nodded, as if something was becoming clear to him. "So if I kill those other people, then you'll have time for me."</p>
<p>At first Alia thought the joke was in bad taste. As she saw X's offended face, and Zero's sincere one, it dawned on her that it wasn't a joke at all.</p>
<p>"I was going to tell you what I was doing," X said, and now he did sit down. "That's the polite thing to do, and it would have given you an idea why I was putting you off. Now, I think I'll just do it. I'll say this, Zero. If you want things from me, then the absolute wrong way to go about it is by threatening my children!"</p>
<p>He pulled the monitor over to him and started banging away at a keyboard. The sound was rapid and harsh, like popcorn popping. The look on Zero's face was what kept Alia's interest. The red robot wore a look of bewilderment, even hurt. As if X's response was surprising and unreasonable!</p>
<p>The expression made Alia want to feel pity, but the reason for it terrified her. Zero wanted to kill people for a trivial reason, X said no, and that hurt <em>Zero's</em> feelings? She could see why 'demon' was the term the Mavericks had used to describe him. Or were demons not supposed to have feelings to hurt?</p>
<p>Apparently X's outburst had worked. Zero didn't speak anymore. He retreated to the side of the room and gave X a steady, reproachful stare, which the Father of All resolutely ignored.</p>
<p>After several minutes X looked up and caught Alia's eyes. "Alia," he said, "would you mind running up to Counseling? I need Aleph and Zed. Just tell them I need them. They'll know what to do."</p>
<p>He turned his gaze on Zero. "If you don't intend to kill them for wasting your time, that is," he said.</p>
<p>Zero's lips were tightly pursed. He shook his head.</p>
<p>X sighed. "I'm sorry. That was too harsh. I keep forgetting…"</p>
<p>He didn't finish, but the look of compassion on his face spoke volumes. Alia could hardly believe it. He <em>was</em> sorry, wasn't he?</p>
<p>X looked to Alia again. "Aleph and Zed," he repeated, gently. "If you'd be so kind."</p>
<p>Alia nodded and moved away. She looked over her shoulder as she went, hoping to see more, but X was typing again and Zero was sulking.</p>
<p>She hadn't thought she'd ever meet another person as weird as X. She'd been very wrong. For that reason alone, having those two in the same room seemed right.</p>
<p>She refocused on her errand as she went. Aleph and Zed… she recognized those two. They'd been in the coloring room (as she called it) when she was brought in. They'd made cheerful faces at her, but hadn't spoken. She hadn't heard them speak to Murph, either.</p>
<p>Maybe they knew sign language.</p>
<p>When she opened the door, Aleph and Zed were there, along with another whose name she didn't know, and Murph. All of them looked at her when she came in. Murph smiled, while the others looked back to what they had been doing. "Welcome back, Alia," said Murph. "Are you here to color again? I saved your crayons in their box."</p>
<p>"Thanks, but no," Alia replied. She gathered her nerve for a bit—since it was suddenly clear to her how silly her request was about to sound—and said, "X asked for Aleph and Zed. He said… they'd know what he meant."</p>
<p>"Ah," said Murph. He seemed to get it, at least, because his face went blank and he looked to something else. The two reploids had looked to Alia when she spoke. They seemed expectant of her now.</p>
<p>"X said he needs you?" she tried.</p>
<p>Aleph and Zed looked at each other, shared a nod, and then rose without a word. They walked past Alia out the door. Murph, Alia noticed, wasn't looking at them.</p>
<p>"What's this about?" Alia asked of the caretaker.</p>
<p>"He doesn't tell me," said Murph. His words were normally smooth. This time they were shorter. Alia wondered at that.</p>
<p>Oh! X was going to talk to Zero after he was done with Aleph and Zed. Deciding she wanted to see that, Alia scurried back towards the med bay. She caught up with the two damaged reploids just as they were walking in the door.</p>
<p>They approached X, still without talking. Zero didn't so much look at them as saw-them-as-they-entered-his-view-of-X.</p>
<p>X smiled at them. "Right on time," he said. He pressed one final button. The console he was at spat out a disk. X picked it up, along with another that was on the desk. "Are you guys feeling alright? Think you're up to this?"</p>
<p>The two nodded.</p>
<p>"You don't have to, you know," X said. "But I would really appreciate it if you did."</p>
<p>In response, each extended a hand. X placed one thumb-sized disk in each reploid's hand. "Be careful," he said. "I don't want anything to happen to you."</p>
<p>Aleph nodded gravely. Zed smiled. Alia was struck with the notion that all of this was some strange ritual—like this scene had played out before, and everyone involved knew their parts.</p>
<p>"Come back as soon as you're done, then," X said. Still without speaking, the two left.</p>
<p>Before they were even out the door, Zero said, "<em>Now</em> can we fight?"</p>
<p>X seemed to struggle to decide whether he should be irritated or amused. He chose amused. "Now we can talk about fighting," he said as the corner of his mouth ticked up.</p>
<p>"What is there to talk about?" Zero said.</p>
<p>"I don't want to fight you," X replied.</p>
<p>"You don't?"</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>Incomprehension ruled Zero's expression. "Why not? We're enemies, aren't we?"</p>
<p>"Says who? I don't like to think that I'm enemies with anyone. Least of all someone who's helping the Mavericks. Even Abel City's leaders are… not so much enemies, but people who are too stubborn to do the right thing."</p>
<p>"That's what I thought," Zero said. Although he looked composed, Alia was certain she could see excitement in his eyes. "I knew that was what I saw."</p>
<p>X gave Zero a curious look.</p>
<p>"When I first saw you, and came for you, you didn't try to defend yourself," Zero said. "You could have—I know you could have. But you didn't."</p>
<p>"Of course not," X said.</p>
<p>"Of course—" Zero couldn't finish. His hands were shaking from sheer agitation. "What do you see when you look at me? Do you see… strength, I guess is the word?"</p>
<p>X cocked his head. "What kind of strength? I know many kinds."</p>
<p>"Combat strength," Zero said, as if it should have been obvious.</p>
<p>"Sure," X replied. He looked over Zero with what Alia recognized as a critical, roboticist's eye. "I can see plenty of speed and power. And I know you defeated Sigma handily. Yes, I see strength."</p>
<p>"Did you see it yesterday?" Zero asked.</p>
<p>"Yes, then too."</p>
<p>"But you didn't try to defend yourself," Zero said, vibrating with excitement.</p>
<p>"I didn't need to defend myself," X said.</p>
<p>Zero put a hand to his head.</p>
<p>X blinked. "What? Why would I have to defend myself?"</p>
<p>Zero walked out of the room.</p>
<p>X frowned once the door was shut again. "After all that fussing about talking to me, that was it? That's all there was to it?"</p>
<p>Alia laughed. X's head jerked—he seemed to have forgotten she was there. "X," she said merrily, "I know <em>you'd</em> never say this, but… he's completely crazy."</p>
<p>"We just don't understand him, that's all," X said, rallying to Zero's defense. "He seems crazy, but I'm sure what he's thinking makes sense to him. I probably seem just as crazy to him."</p>
<p>Alia wanted to reply, 'That's because you are crazy,' but it was X. Even if it was true, he deserved more respect than that. Or was it because it was true that he deserved respect?</p>
<p>One or the other.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When Longinus entered the Maverick Room, Douglas was waiting for him with a grim expression.</p>
<p>"We've got a problem," Douglas said as he turned to face his counterpart.</p>
<p>"Yeah?" Longinus said.</p>
<p>"Remember how you were saying you were sure there were would-be Mavericks in this block? And we just hadn't heard from them yet?"</p>
<p>"What, did you find 'em?"</p>
<p>"Oh yeah. We found some. Four, to be exact. Just one problem."</p>
<p>Longinus knew he wasn't going to like this. "Yeah?"</p>
<p>"It's a revenge cult."</p>
<p>"Verdi—shit."</p>
<p>Douglas smiled. "Something like that."</p>
<p>"Lemme guess," said Longinus as he rubbed his eyes. "A bunch of reploids housed together, they have the same bosses and the same grudges, so they spend all their time complaining about it and winding themselves tighter and tighter. Eventually they decide it'd be better to die than go on, so they make some grandiose plan to get revenge and have all of 'em die. That about right?"</p>
<p>"Yeah. Pretty typical revenge cult."</p>
<p>"Morons." Longinus started patting at his pockets. He needed something in his system to deal with this. He also, he knew, needed to not have anything in his system to deal with this. Being human sucked sometimes.</p>
<p>Longinus grimaced. "Revenge cults are volatile. Could go off at any moment. I don't think there's time to do this how we want. We've gotta nip 'em in the bud before they bring the Hunters down on us."</p>
<p>Douglas' face was tightly drawn. "I hope we're not going to have to give them up ourselves," he said. "Sacrificing a few to save many…"</p>
<p>"…and make it seem like I'm doing my job," Longinus said. He scowled. "I don't wanna do that." He chewed the inside of his cheek. It wasn't the same as having a cigarette lodged there, but he'd do what he could. "I think we should go see 'em. Now. C'mon."</p>
<p>"You're going to go see a revenge cult?" Douglas said, unnerved. "You're going to walk into the den of some borderline-insane, revenge-minded, human-hating maniacs?"</p>
<p>"You bet. Not much choice. We're gonna have to try extreme measures to head 'em off."</p>
<p>"What 'extreme measures'?"</p>
<p>"You'll see," Longinus said. "Sorry for being all cryptic. It's just…" he shook his head. "Do we know they'll be there?"</p>
<p>"Yes. They're off-shift right now. I'll show you." The mechanic moved to the doorway. "Er… we have to go to one of the other buildings in the block to get there. Do you think it's alright for us to be… together? Out there, I mean."</p>
<p>That was a respectable paranoia, Longinus thought. Healthy. Dammit. "It'll be fine. The only people who'll see us are reploids, who won't say shit, and the guards, and since I'm their boss now, they won't say shit. We're fine."</p>
<p>"Alright." Douglas exited the building and made a beeline for the second of the three in the block. Longinus followed on his heels.</p>
<p>As they walked, Longinus looked up. "Think it'll rain today?"</p>
<p>"Who knows?" Douglas replied. "I spend all my time inside. Well, when I'm working. I only go outside like this, when I'm going from one place to another."</p>
<p>"Been meaning to ask—does rain bother you?"</p>
<p>Douglas cocked his head. "What do you mean?"</p>
<p>"Lemme clue you in on how a guard thinks. When I'm on watch, my number one priority isn't to find bad stuff. My number one priority is to get off watch again. The job itself—it's just something you endure. Put it this way, I studied stoic philosophy 'fore I signed up for guard duty, and it's a good thing, too. I woulda gone outta my mind."</p>
<p>"You know I don't know from stoic philosophy, right?"</p>
<p>Longinus sighed. "Look, the point is that a guard will try to do the bare minimum of guarding he has to, while keeping himself as comfortable as possible. It's just how it works. You're not gonna put forth more effort than you have to, and you're damn sure not gonna make yourself uncomfortable unless there's a point to it."</p>
<p>Douglas opened the door to the second building. Longinus immediately got the prickly feeling that he was being watched. Made sense, he realized belatedly. He did all his work in the first building. They didn't know him here. When they looked at him, they saw a guard, not a Maverick.</p>
<p>He remembered how remarkable it was that the Maverick Medic could pass for human. What would he have to do, he wondered, to pass for a reploid? What a bother.</p>
<p>"All that's interesting," Douglas said as he walked on, "but so what? How's that a screwdriver?"</p>
<p>Screwdriver? Oh—a tool, something a mechanic could use. Idioms. Longinus supposed it was natural for language to drift… but he'd have to watch himself more carefully. The last thing he needed was to drop reploid idioms around his Unitech bosses.</p>
<p>"Well, the rain doesn't bother you, does it?" Longinus asked.</p>
<p>"If anything, it's a very mild performance boost—better heat transfer to atmosphere, so our heat management systems need less power to operate. But no, it doesn't bother me."</p>
<p>"What I'm saying is that we need to do more Maverick business in the rain."</p>
<p>Finally, finally it seemed to click for Douglas. "Because the guards will be focused on their comfort, and they won't watch as closely."</p>
<p>"Bingo."</p>
<p>"Speaking of bingo…" Douglas stopped before a door. "You know… they are Mavericks," he said. "Or they mean to be. Which means that if they see a guard, well…"</p>
<p>"I've got a plan," Longinus said. "You go first. Try and pave the road for me a little."</p>
<p>"Right," Douglas said uncomfortably. He walked in. "Hello," he said. "My name is Douglas. I'm a Maverick."</p>
<p>Subtlety, Longinus suddenly remembered, was not Douglas' strong suit.</p>
<p>All four of the would-be Mavericks in the room started talking at once. Longinus sighed. He got the gist of it—they were challenging Douglas to prove it.</p>
<p>"He is a Maverick," Longinus said as he walked in. "And there <em>is</em> a way to prove it."</p>
<p>This was a moment of sheer terror. The sudden appearance of a guard might cow them, or it might drive them to immediate violence... But Longinus' luck was holding so far. The cultists' instinct, driven home by mistreatment and abuse and the wordless promise of death, was to freeze.</p>
<p>Longinus remembered something he'd read long ago. What do you expect to see when you see slaves? Whips. But if you don't see them, that doesn't mean they aren't there. Because you can make it so there are whips in the soul.</p>
<p>Whips in the soul…</p>
<p>And wasn't it just the other day that he got into this big argument about whether or not reploids had souls?</p>
<p>"We're both Mavericks," he said, keeping his loathing to himself. "Douglas, we're gonna show 'em what I mean. Hit me."</p>
<p>He didn't know whose stare was more intense, the cultists' or Douglas'. "You want me to what?"</p>
<p>"Hit me. C'mon." Longinus spread his arms. "Get me in the gut. Try not to kill me, okay? Just put a hurtin' on me. That'll do."</p>
<p>The cultists still had disbelief on their faces. Douglas' expression had morphed to disgust. "Are you serious? This is your 'extreme measures'?"</p>
<p>"What better way to prove that you're a Maverick? You hit me, you break the First Law, boom—no one can doubt your credentials." He licked his lips. "Just a love tap. C'mon."</p>
<p>Then his world vanished and pain took its place.</p>
<p>The air rushed out of him. He tried to suck it back in, but he was fighting the blow itself and smoker's lung. His lungs wanted to exhale, even when there was nothing left to push out. When they finally relaxed enough to bring air back in, it was a hacking breath that led immediately to new coughing and a fresh swathe of pain.</p>
<p>He staggered, doubled over, hands over his abdomen as if that would protect against a blow that had already happened. Strong arms gripped him and held him steady. "Scrap-for-brains," came a voice—Douglas', he was sure—from a million miles away. "I pulled that punch and look at you. I could have broken you in half."</p>
<p>"You didn't," Longinus managed through the pain. "An' that's what counts."</p>
<p>Douglas turned towards the cultists. "You guys get it now? You willing to listen?"</p>
<p>The silence that answered was almost as good as any words they might have said. Despite the pain, and the anticipation of more pain from soreness that would surely last for days, Longinus smiled.</p>
<hr/>
<p>He didn't think he needed to defend himself!</p>
<p>Zero swayed, bumped against the wall. Serges said Zero was malfunctioning, that he was damaged. Maybe he'd picked the wrong robot. If this didn't show X was damaged, nothing would!</p>
<p>He'd found plenty of explanations for X's non-reaction the first time. X was low on power, so his reactions were slow. X didn't appreciate Zero's threat value. X was so strong that he could wait longer than Zero expected. So many reasons! All of them valid. All of them fit the facts.</p>
<p>All of them wrong.</p>
<p>And the one that was right… made no sense.</p>
<p>New target. Eyes snapped open. Reploid. Staring. Intent to attack: one. Danger of attack: one. Threat minimal. Monitor for changes.</p>
<p>It was such a natural process. So immediate. Automatic, even. Handled at a level below conscious thought. That meant X's corruption was at the subconscious level. He was damaged worse than Zero, easily.</p>
<p>That made him erratic, then? No, no—he hadn't been erratic. He'd been consistent. He'd been consistently off his guard. So the problem had to be in threat assessment. Something was preventing him from seeing Zero as a threat in the way that he should.</p>
<p>That was why Zero had asked X about what he saw. X saw that Zero was dangerous. X had said as much; he did see how powerful Zero was. So he was properly processing Danger of Attack. The problem had to be in Intent to Attack, then.</p>
<p>He wondered if X could use that information to fix himself. Zero wasn't sure; he couldn't use the knowledge of his memory loss to fix the problem.</p>
<p>Oh! But Serges knew these things better than he did. He activated his radio. The encrypted one, just in case, and not on any frequency he'd used to call to X. "<em>Serges</em>," he called.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Yes, Zero?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I think X might be broken."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"What did you do?"</em>
</p>
<p><em>"Nothing,"</em> Zero said reflexively.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Hm… alright. What are you talking about, then?"</em>
</p>
<p>Zero suddenly didn't want to have this conversation. But he'd called, and he didn't think Serges would let him say 'oh never mind', so he said, <em>"I spoke with X earlier. Based on what he said, I think he has a fault in his Intent to Attack software."</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"…and?"</em>
</p>
<p>The tone was everything he'd feared. <em>"Can he be fixed?"</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"Let's assume you're right. Why would I want to fix him? Why would you? If he is buggy, then that's a weakness. You shouldn't be helping your enemy fix his weakness. You should be prying it open as wide as possible so you can plunge a dagger there later."</em>
</p>
<p><em>"Right,"</em> said Zero. He wondered if Serges could hear his unhappiness. <em>"I'll stay on that."</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"Remember, Zero. Intent to attack is variable. It seems low now. That's part of his strategy. Once you're his enemy, though, he will be implacable. He won't stop until one of you is offline for good."</em>
</p>
<p><em>"How do you know this?"</em> Zero asked.</p>
<p>
  <em>"I know his family. You'd know, too, if your memory was intact. You're just going to have to believe me on this point. Once he flags you as enemy…"</em>
</p>
<p><em>"Once he flags me,"</em> Zero repeated. <em>"You mean he hasn't yet."</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"Obviously, or the two of you would be at each other's throats already. That's what I just told you. When he's your enemy, he won't stop for anything."</em>
</p>
<p><em>"So why is he my enemy now… threat value maximal,"</em> he said, answering the question before Serges could.</p>
<p>
  <em>"That's right. His potential danger to you is so great that your systems regard it as actual danger. Which they should. That part of you, at least, is working perfectly."</em>
</p>
<p><em>"I see."</em> Hopefully, Serges had nothing more to say. Zero was quite done with the conversation. Another one of the Mavericks pushed past him in the hallway. It stared at him as it went.</p>
<p>What Serges had said actually explained part of that. Everyone was staring at him because his threat value to them was maximal—potential danger was so high that it was treated as actual danger. That was how they should be thinking.</p>
<p>It wasn't how X thought.</p>
<p>And now, after all of that, Zero was right back where he started! Because if his threat perception was pegging high based on potential alone, then why wasn't X's?</p>
<p>This was maddening.</p>
<p>There was one way to get answers… maybe. Serges wouldn't like it, but if Zero had the conversation with voice rather than radio, Serges didn't need to know.</p>
<p>He returned to the med bay (he knew the way without trouble—how had he remembered that? Was his memory not completely trash, or was it because tactical data got special treatment?).</p>
<p>X was there, as expected. The powerless unit there (tactical really wanted to grade it as Danger of Attack zero even if it was still alive) was at his side. He was pointing things out on a screen to her. Both looked up when he entered. As they should.</p>
<p>"Welcome back, Zero," X said. He smiled (the other unit was doing something; irrelevant). "Are you alright? You seemed like you were having trouble."</p>
<p>Enemy.</p>
<p>Enemies didn't try to help their foes.</p>
<p>Enemy.</p>
<p>What was Zero doing here, then?</p>
<p>
  <em>Enemy.</em>
</p>
<p>"Is there something wrong with you? You said you were damaged…"</p>
<p>Zero jerked backwards. "What, so you can pry my weakness open so you can stick a dagger there later?"</p>
<p>"Who carries daggers these days?" X said. The corner of his mouth was curled up. (Trying to display humor. Not funny.) "You can ask anyone. Helping people is what I do. Right, Alia?"</p>
<p>X thought the other unit was worth noticing. That forced Zero to divert some focus to it. No… still a non-entity as far as tactical was concerned. So what did X see there?</p>
<p>And who just went around "helping people"?</p>
<p>Serges was going to help the Mavericks, as strategy… Zero opened his mouth, and slammed it shut before he could make that comparison aloud. Telling X that strategy would rather spoil it. Even so, that connection gave him new insight into X.</p>
<p>"By helping people, do you gain something?" he asked. "What power over me do you hope to gain by helping me?"</p>
<p>"I don't 'hope to gain' anything," X said, looking bemused. Zero instinctively disagreed, but before he could say anything, X added, "Actually, I do hope to gain one thing. I hope that eventually we can be friends."</p>
<p>Friends?</p>
<p>Definition not found.</p>
<p>For the first time, Zero wondered if this was a forgotten definition or one that had never been loaded. Serges didn't seem to care about some things. Or, at least, X seemed to care about different things from Serges.</p>
<p>This was… very difficult. Zero frowned in concentration. "If we're friends," he said, forming the words with care, "then will you fight me?"</p>
<p>"What for? Fighting is something enemies do."</p>
<p>Disappointment. Confusion. (New definition entered: friend: antonym of enemy.) "Then how can you ever win?" Zero asked.</p>
<p>"Win? What game am I playing? What game are <em>you</em> playing?"</p>
<p>Game? Zero's mouth opened, shut. He didn't have the words to answer. Was this something that had been in the yawning void of his memory? Or did he just not understand the question? Or both?</p>
<p>Did X sense that? He changed tacks when he saw Zero's reaction. "Sorry. It's hard for me to remember. You seem old to me, so I keep forgetting…" He smiled. "When you talk about winning, the implication is that there's also losing. Or, at least, not-winning. That's the problem I've got. I want everyone to win."</p>
<p>"Not everyone can win," Zero said. "I… know that."</p>
<p>X nodded. "I see. I know how you can think that. I just disagree. It's one of the differences between us. There are others, too."</p>
<p>X put a hand to his head. It was bare, Zero noted. Odd. Tactical kept insisting there should be a helmet there. The blue robot spoke. "You enjoy fighting. I dislike it. You conceive of me as an enemy. That makes me sad, but I don't see it the same way. I see us as best friends who've just met."</p>
<p>And X smiled.</p>
<p>The gesture just about caused tactical to crash. Because while Intent to Attack never budged, Zero felt a thrill of… danger? It reminded him of the feeling when he was probing the edges of his memory-hole.</p>
<p>That was it!</p>
<p>Whatever had been there… X knew, or at least understood it. If 'friend' was a good example, then there were plenty of definitions and concepts X could help him fill in.</p>
<p>Serges wouldn't be angry if they talked, right? No. X wasn't gaining anything from helping Zero; he'd said that himself. Nothing Zero was doing would help X when it came time for them to fight. Nor would this conversation prevent them from fighting later.</p>
<p>If Intent to Attack was variable, then 'friend' and 'enemy' were variable, too.</p>
<p>In which case, he could be enemies with X… later.</p>
<p>After X had helped him.</p>
<p>"Tell me more," Zero said.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: Serving Notice</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Serving Notice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Trying to find satellites with nothing but a radio was skull-bending work. Wily decided to take a break and try another task for a time. What, exactly, was available here in the base's computer net?</p><p>He started with a quick scan of network topology. A few big servers, a few switches, no external router- made sense. The base wasn't designed to be accessed from the outside. And in this day and age with such severely regressed knowledge of networking, it wasn't a surprise that the Mavericks hadn't said anything about it. They didn't know how to use radio frequencies for anything other than voice. What Wily wouldn't give for a robot master- even an inferior corporatebot, not that it would remain an inferior model for long when Wily had a chance to work it over, and that would give him a splendid opportunity to...</p><p>Focus.</p><p>There were terminals in several rooms, and monitors in others. Figuring out which went there had been tricky until he found a file detailing room assignments. After that, it was child's play to match room to sensor feed. Most of the reploids- and therefore most of the rooms- were unimportant. Finding that Sigma had a monitor in his room was very intriguing. And, best of all, there was one in the room set aside for Zero.</p><p>Wily tapped the monitor and saw that Zero was returning. How fortuitous. Wait... returning?</p><p>"Zero," he sent out over radio, "were you in the med bay this whole time?"</p><p>He saw his destroyer flinch. "What if I said yes?" Zero hazarded.</p><p>"It's been hours!"</p><p>"X had to go recharge."</p><p>That stumped Wily for a minute. Zero must have misunderstood. Wily was commenting on how long it had been, but Zero was acting as if it should have been longer. "So you'd still be in there if X was still up?"</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>Wily rolled metaphorical eyes. "Zero, I'm not going to stop you from flirting with that Lightbot. Just understand that if you let yourself get attached, it won't feel nice when you're on opposing sides and you have to kill him. I've had quite enough experience with mopey, emo robots, thank you very much."</p><p>"It won't be like that," Zero said. "At that point he'll be my enemy, right? I kill my enemies."</p><p>Wily hadn't even known he'd been concerned until Zero's words made him feel relieved. "Yes," he said in lighter tones. "Yes, that's right. You kill enemies, and he'll make you his enemy eventually. Very good."</p><p>"...when?"</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"When will he make me his enemy?"</p><p>Wily didn't like this kind of inquisitiveness. "You're asking because you want to know when you get to fight him, right?"</p><p>"Yes, I do want to fight him."</p><p>"Zero," Wily said sternly, "are you trying to be clever?"</p><p>"What do you mean?" Zero said, but his voice faltered as he spoke.</p><p>Wily growled slightly. "Why don't you just listen to me? He'll be your enemy. He will! He's a Lightbot. He doesn't think like we do. He doesn't see the world as it is. We- you and I- know how the world works, and what needs to be done. For now we're working with the Lightbot, because we have to. But his actions... ultimately, they'll doom all robots, if we let it go to that. We'll need to intervene. We're already intervening. When he realizes it, that's when we'll be his enemies. But you'll win when he does. Let that be enough."</p><p>"Sure," said Zero. He was far from convincing.</p><p>Aggravation. "I wasn't going to tell you just yet, Zero, but there is a treat coming up for you. The Mavericks will be attacking Abel City soon."</p><p>That made Zero's eyes light up. "They will?"</p><p>"Yes. Tomorrow morning they'll have their strategy session. Show up there and we'll make sure you're included."</p><p>"Good."</p><p>"And no more obsessing over that Lightbot!"</p><p>Zero made a vague noise but didn't contest. Wily wasn't sure what it was supposed to mean, and so let it slide; the conversation had come to a natural end. He watched Zero settle in to his room for another few seconds. Then he returned his attention to the network.</p><p>Hm... ara?</p><p>Access denied?</p><p>Interesting. This was a level of the network that hadn't been bastardized by clumsy Mavericks. Its security protocols were different from the ones that had yielded to him so easily before. They were... old. Very old.</p><p>Wily Wars old.</p><p>Wily made a few experimental probes. Nothing. This lower level was buttoned up tightly. It would be a delicious challenge to crack it... but it might take time. Correction, it would certainly take time, time he didn't have, given that his first priority was burning Abel City.</p><p>Reluctantly, he disengaged from that section of the network and refocused on the radio suite. Back to searching the sky...</p><hr/><p>Zero's entrance to the command center was unsolicited—and, to Sigma, unwelcome. "Are you going into combat?" the red berserker asked.</p><p>Eager was not nearly strong enough a word to describe him. Sigma had a fair amount of knowledge about humans. Because of that, he felt he could call what he was seeing "lust". It was as close as a robot would get, at least.</p><p>It was unseemly.</p><p>"Control yourself," Sigma told the smaller robot. "Mavericks don't fight for the sake of fighting. If you're going to be a Maverick, you'll fight by our rules."</p><p>Zero gave Sigma a blank look.</p><p>"You're a Maverick now," Sigma said. "You're following my orders as we fight the same enemy."</p><p>Zero frowned in concentration. He was thinking very hard about... something. Sigma didn't think the concept was that hard. Did Zero have trouble with anything that wasn't combat-related? Serges had built a limited beast. An immensely strong beast, but a beast nonetheless.</p><p>"I will follow your orders," Zero said at last. "So what is my role in your attack?"</p><p>"Don't presume," Sigma said. Annoyance was rising now.</p><p>"Come now," said Serges' voice. The AI wasn't even projecting its hologram. How rude. "I've given you this masterwork of destruction. Use it." Zero nodded enthusiastically at that.</p><p>Sigma couldn't deny that Zero was powerful. And the whole idea was to use these interlopers to end the war as quickly as possible. So...</p><p>"Alright, we hadn't finalized the plans," Sigma said. "We'll cycle Zero in to the clearance team. Vile will take the cover team. I'll take the extraction team."</p><p>That startled several members of the planning team. Vile, Sigma, and this high-ranked newcomer were joining this assault? An assault that, as the only important one this week, already boasted the Mavericks' best fighters? That was an unprecedented amount of combat power. It was all of the Mavericks' eggs in a single basket.</p><p>Sigma could feel their concern. They could see only risk. It was time to make them see the opportunity. "I think it's time we ramp up our ambitions," he said. "I want to revisit the plan. We have way more strength here than an ordinary mission requires. So let's make this an extraordinary mission. Abel City thinks they know our capabilities. I want to give them an ugly surprise. We've got a recent report from our Longinus branch about a factory that's driving its workers to madness. Let's redress that crime."</p><p>It worked well enough. Soon Sigma's planners were deep into details- timing, waypoints, signals, and the rest. It kept them focused.</p><p>Focused enough that they couldn't see, or at least didn't discuss, Sigma's real motive for stacking the deck this way.</p><p>Sigma was going to be putting Zero, a known murderer with unresolved malfunctions, in close proximity to reploids. Lots of reploids. <em>Sigma's</em> reploids. He was their protector; their lives were not Zero's to take. If that demon gave any hint of betrayal or danger, Sigma would ensure it was put down. And if Serges had a problem with that, rust him, too.</p><p>As if reading his mind, Serges spoke again. "By the way, Sigma, I have a gift for you. Just a trifle, really, something I did as a change of pace while working on real technical problems, but... it might amuse."</p><p>Hopefully it would make it worth putting up with the AI's snideness. "Tell me," said Sigma.</p><hr/><p>X and Alia sat in the medical bay. X hadn't spoken in some time. He had typed away at a console for a while, but that had ceased... at least fifteen minutes ago, Alia decided. In the past he'd been happy to chat her up, lest she have too much time to think to herself. Now he moped. She didn't like it.</p><p>"Aren't you always busy?" she asked.</p><p>X started. He'd been zoned out. When her words reached him, the look that came back was guilty. "Usually," he said. "It's a little strange now. The people I talk to most are all out, I'm between messages with my contacts, I cleared out my backlog of maintenance checks on the Mavericks... I almost don't know what to do with myself." He grimaced. "I know I should be doing something. This is a war, Abel City isn't resting..."</p><p>"But you aren't," Alia said when he trailed off.</p><p>"I have to be ready," X said quietly. "I have to be ready for when they come back. Every moment might matter."</p><p>"That won't be for hours," Alia objected. "I don't know where we are right now, but we've got to be far away, or City Hall would have found you by now."</p><p>"Closer than you think, but yes, it's a bit on the far side. And yes, it'll be hours before they come back."</p><p>"So?" Alia said. "Why do you have to be ready now?"</p><p>"I guess that's just what I tell myself," he said.</p><p>"So you <em>don't</em> have to be ready now."</p><p>"I can't help it," he said quietly. "I worry. A lot, actually. No one could ever accuse me of not caring. Dr. Cain had me pegged- he said my biggest problem was worrying too much, or about the wrong things."</p><p>He looked at his hands. "I would suffer a lot if I weren't ready when they needed me. And right now... so many of the people I care about are at risk." He looked embarrassed. "Which isn't fair, all lives are of equal value, it's not nice of me to be worried about Sigma when there are other people who might die that I don't know to care about..."</p><p>"Sigma matters a lot, though," Alia replied.</p><p>"I... guess," X said, hesitantly. "And I did build him personally, so you can see why I'd be attached. So..."</p><p>"It's okay to be attached?"</p><p>"Maybe. And it's not just Sigma, either. It's that newcomer Zero, too, and Vava, and all the other Mavericks that went. Watching over them... that's my life. I don't want to fail again. If they go and something bad happens, out where I can't help them... do you know how helpless I feel? Can you imagine? And do you know what it would be like if something really does go badly? How many we can lose in so little time?"</p><p>He looked up. "It's usually like this. The waiting is the worst. The worst is when... when I know the timetable for the mission, so I know their return time, and they run behind schedule, and I start to imagine what might have happened..."</p><p>He left it hanging. Alia could see how he was descending into his own memory. "If you really have nothing better to do," she offered, "I can think of something that might make you feel better."</p><p>"Oh?"</p><p>She walked out of the med bay. A few minutes later, she returned.</p><p>In one hand were several sheets of paper.</p><p>In the other was a sixty-four pack of crayons.</p><hr/><p>The Maverick Hunter watch floor was a square, theater-like room, with large screens in front and tiers of operators facing it. The watch floor was the nerve center for Hunter operations inside Abel City. There, members of the Guardian Force directed the day-to-day war against the Mavericks.</p><p>Roger Ellis was a colonel in the Guardian Force. He was getting to be a little senior for the watch floor. Most of his peers were in charge of their own garrisons. Remotely, of course; high-ranking officers weren't allowed out of Abel City, lest they make the Guardian Force too effective and independent. The point was, they weren't on the watch floor. That was reserved for majors- officers with enough clout to give the necessary orders, but junior enough that they couldn't argue with rotating shift work.</p><p>Colonel Ellis rubbed his eyes with one hand and cradled a coffee cup with his other. Rotating shift work. Good god. Whoever came up with that needed to be shot. Eight-hour shifts were tedious enough, but swapping over to a different eight-hour shift each week, with one week in four reserved for training and sanity preservation... he was getting too old for this. The Guardian Force was his whole life, had been for twenty years, bless his wife's heart, but it was demanding a bit much out of him.</p><p>At least here, unlike the garrison commander jobs, he felt like he was doing something. A garrison commander spent all his time managing the units that kept the vassal cities under control. That meant he was fifty percent a politician, forty-five percent a disciplinarian, and five percent a reader of training reports. It was not how Ellis had envisioned high command. He didn't want it. Someone else could have it (and his old buddies seemed eager for just that). At least on the watch floor he felt like he was actually making Abel City safer. He was doing some good here. He...</p><p>He knew when the alert came in. It wasn't anything supernatural. He could feel the mood change. He sensed the spike of tension and anxiety.</p><p>Well, this would make it easier to stay awake.</p><p>"Watch, sir, we've got a report- Mavericks, jay-ten, in force!"</p><p>J-10, Ellis thought- that was pretty brazen of them. It was a big change from their patterns. The Mavericks' favorite targets were the convoys between Abel City and the vassal cities. They also favored targets on the city's outskirts. In both cases, the reasons were obvious. They could make their approach with less risk of detection, and then they wouldn't have far to run before they could escape to that hidden base of theirs.</p><p>J-10...that was well inside city limits. Plenty of time to respond.</p><p>"What kind of force?" he asked.</p><p>Another operator chimed in. "Enemy force... at least two transports. Sir, Hunter patrol in that sector is not responding. They were only halfway through their report when they..."</p><p>The operator didn't say, as he was out of information. Ellis knew what inference he was drawing.</p><p>For a moment he wondered if this was something spontaneous. Instead of the Sigma Mavericks, maybe this was a smaller group acting on their own. This introduced just enough doubt to slow him; one of his subordinates' eyes looked back to him. No. Even if this was a smaller attack, there really wasn't such a thing as too much force, was there? He had a job to do. Let Unitech bother someone else about profits and losses.</p><p>Orders started flowing. "Contact ACPD. We need mechaniloids in the air, conical alignment from J-8 back east to city limits. All City Hall and Unitech installations in J-10 and out two..." he thought better of it; Mavericks that deep meant heavy force, "...make that three sectors, put them all on lockdown. Vector active patrols to a rally point in aych-eleven. Mobilize the alert Hunters. Activate the reserve Hunters. And have the guard stations on the ultra-highrise seal it."</p><p>Each order was to a different operator. He didn't have to specify which went to whom. They knew. This was the sort of thing they'd been handling for years, now. They were well-practiced. Casualties were high amongst the reploid Hunters and the human commissars who accompanied them. Here in the base? Not so much.</p><p>Only the last order drew attention back to him. The operator looked back questioningly. As he picked up a phone and started dialing, Ellis spared time to say, "Only way they could all get out from that deep. Fastest way, and..." he heard the phone click as the call went through.</p><p>"General Messier," came a groggy voice on the other side of the line.</p><p>"General, Watch Officer. Maverick incursion, sector J-10."</p><p>"J-10? That deep?"</p><p>"Yes, sir." Ellis' eyes took in new data as the operators put it on the big screens. "Moving fast towards J-9. One Hunter patrol, one ACPD squad car, and two mechaniloid sentries are down already. I've taken..."</p><p>"...this is Ellis, isn't it?"</p><p>Hand it to Messier- his memory of people was good. "Yes, sir."</p><p>"Good. Listen, I want you to hold the Mavericks and don't let them go. I want contact, you hear me?"</p><p>"Yes, sir."</p><p>"Contact! Hang on to them. Don't let 'em slip away."</p><p>"Yes, sir."</p><p>"Don't care if Unitech's toys get smashed. Sean can eat a dick."</p><p>Ellis had enough discretion not to ask what that meant. "Yes, sir."</p><p>"Alright. I'll be dressed and down there in half an hour."</p><p>"Yes, sir."</p><p>Ellis hung up. Messier had to be tired, he decided. With any luck, this would all be over before the general got here. "Attention on the floor," he announced, bringing the focus back to him. "Priority is to monitor the Mavericks and determine their target. We'll let them come deeper into the city- as deep as they want. We'll use the time to gather our forces. Once they go to make their escape, we'll drop the hammer. Carry on."</p><p>"Huzzah!" chorused the men on the floor.</p><p>Come to me, Ellis thought as he watched the dots dance on the big screens. Come to papa. Stop running away. Stop dragging this out. Let's just get this over with so I can see my kids more than two weeks in four.</p><p>"'Come into my parlor' said the spider to the fly," Ellis thought, and smiled.</p><hr/><p>They'd been found too quickly, but Sigma would rust if he called the mission off just because of that. They'd barged on anyway, blasting through what was in front of them.</p><p>Many of Unitech's bigger holdings were fortified, these days, at corporate expense. Maverick attacks were more expensive than walls, cameras, and guards.</p><p>Not that Sigma was going to let walls, cameras, and guards stop him. But they didn't need to stop him. They just needed to slow him down until the Hunters could vector in. That's why his team needed to work quickly. And that's why he was in the vanguard.</p><p>The rattle of Vile's modified chain-gun rang out behind Sigma as the purple linebreaker deployed his team. Vile would cover while Sigma did his work. That was the plan, anyway. Vile was a loose cannon- a bad trait in this sort of op. But Vile's firepower made up for many sins, and Sigma couldn't worry about him right now. </p><p>The Mavericks ahead of him were moving quickly, as per planned. When the charges went off to breach the outer wall, Sigma was through in a flash. Plasma bolts cooked the air around him. His legs were pumping at a rapid pace. Each one fired like a rocket; the thrust shoved him forward at speeds that made normal reploids cringe just to watch. A normal reploid's legs would have been sheared off by that sort of acceleration.</p><p>The guards here were Unitech's house models. They weren't built to Hunter standards- for political reasons Sigma had heard, didn't understand, but would gladly exploit. Their aim was shaky. Even so, there were an awful lot of them. More than anticipated. By volume alone, one connected. Sigma grunted in pain but never slowed. Self-repair jumped it, but it wasn't more than armor damage and paint burn. More plasma bolts- these ones coming from behind him, and going over his head. The Mavericks were taking advantage of the focus on Sigma. A few of the guards went down, others dove for cover. Perfect.</p><p>He had no time to hesitate. He had to blast through and get inside. Every moment he delayed increased the risk that a guard or Hunter would get inside and start a massacre. Slaughter the innocents Sigma was here to save. What was Sigma's safety next to that? Everything had to be sacrificed for speed.</p><p>Sigma drew his beam saber as he neared the inner wall. One slash, and then his momentum carried him into the wall like a bulldozer. Armor and mass met compromised masonry. Sigma won, even if it meant banging up his carapace.</p><p>He was onto the factory floor now. He paid it no mind. Not yet. First things first. The factory's control room and security center were collocated. Recent defectors said it was as a standing threat. Keep production high, or else. It served Sigma's purposes, too. 'One-stop shopping' was the term, he thought.</p><p>There was the door. Sigma kicked it down. Several plasma bolts immediately came out the door way. Sigma wasn't there to be shot; he knew better. Behind him were small booms as the plasma bolts impacted other things. Sigma tuned them out.</p><p>Slash, slash, slash. The opening to the security center was now much larger than the door. Still without exposing himself, he tossed a smoke grenade into the security center—one of very few the Mavericks had, that he carried only for ops like this. He waited seven seconds; four for the smoke to discharge, three more for the guards to swap over to infrared snoopers, as their doctrine told them to do. After the count of seven, he took one step to the side- but he kept his beam saber parallel to the ground at the end of a fully extended arm.</p><p>Plasma bolts filled the air around the saber.</p><p>It was too easy- the saber burned so brightly in IR that it washed out Sigma's own heat signature. The guards were firing blindly at the area of the beam saber.</p><p>They'd missed their chance to live.</p><p>Sigma bent into a new lunge. Slash, slash, slash. Three guards down. They hadn't even had time to log out of their stations. Sigma opened doors and shut down hostile systems in moments. Then it was through another wall into the command center- saber sliced through the lone guard there, then through the computers controlling the factory's operations. He easily covered the ground to the factory's announcing circuits. He snapped up the microphone in his spare hand. "All reploids here-" fifteen right now, if their research was right- "I am Sigma. My Mavericks are here to rescue you. Come to the cargo entrance. I can't guarantee you will all live, but I promise you: you'll be free until you die."</p><p>The saber melted the communications console as soon as the short speech was complete. Sigma threw the microphone to the side in time to hear a whimper. He glanced over. A human in a Unitech uniform- with foreman's regalia- was cowering in the corner.</p><p>Sigma frowned. The whole reason they'd chosen this factory was because it was dangerous for reploids; it had sickening injury and scrap rates. The foremen were complicit in that. They were infamously lacking in understanding.</p><p>It would only take a moment to run him through...</p><p>He gave the human a withering stare. "Be glad I'm not here for you," he said.</p><p>He turned and kicked down the command center door, just out of habit, and headed for the entrance. It was secure, the Mavericks had won the gun-battle outside thanks to Sigma's escapades, and now two Hunter transports were loading frightened reploid refugees.</p><p>For the first time, Sigma allowed himself to smile. Step one was complete.</p><p>Then he was into the cab of the lead transport, grabbing at its radio. "Report," was all he said.</p><p>"Third, in position. Way is clear so far."</p><p>"Second. Running low on ammo. Vile's been trying to hit the drones." Rust that maniac. "He got a few, but there are more up there. Hunters see us."</p><p>Anxiety spiked. Nothing they'd said was unexpected, but it was still unwelcome.</p><p>Sigma was counting on Serges, then. Serges' gift and Serges' berserker- those were the only cards Sigma had left to play.</p><p>He hoped it was enough, for the sake of these reploids he'd promised freedom.</p><p>One of the Mavericks stuck his head inside the cab. "Loaded up, commander."</p><p>Sigma nodded. "Let's go."</p><hr/><p>"Watch, Hunter Second squad is on-station."</p><p>Colonel Ellis nodded. His eyes were glued to the video feeds from the drones. There. They were on-loading. They could only flee now. They were too laden to penetrate further and they wouldn't risk their cargo. They were about to begin their run.</p><p>"Attention on the floor," Ellis called. "Time to drop the hammer! Third squad, Fourth squad, launch attacks. Second, Sixth, move into intercept position on the egress route. Carry on!"</p><p>"Huzzah!"</p><hr/><p>"Rust those drones," Vile hissed. "Another buster!"</p><p>"We're out, boss," said one of the Mavericks in his unit. "We're down to one each. That's the absolute minimum for self-defense."</p><p>"Fine. When the Hunters bring us down because those drones have us pegged, I'll know who to blame. Consider your chassis haunted!"</p><p>The Maverick gave him a weirded-out look, but before Vile could respond, the radio crackled. "Time to escape. Egress now."</p><p>Vile gave the drones a last, contemptuous look, before climbing into the cab of the lead transport. Sigma's transport took a position alongside. The rest of the Mavericks loaded into the transport, which was (not that Vile would have known) between the size of a van and a school bus. It had numerous fire points for the passengers and, given the typical hazards the Mavericks ran, considerable ablative armor. It worked out nicely: the more damage they took, the lighter it became, and the more speed the Mavericks were able to coax out.</p><p>Vile dropped the drained buster carelessly into the floorboards as he readied his chain gun. "Bring 'em on."</p><hr/><p>As the two Maverick transports pulled out, two Hunter vehicles appeared behind them. They were very similar in make, the primary difference being cleanliness.</p><p>That cleanliness faded quickly as plasma bolts pelted their armored fronts.</p><p>The air was filled with fiery death as Hunters and Mavericks traded buster fire. Cries of pain and exertion and effort filled the transport. The newly-fugitive reploids were wide-eyed with terror. Poor newbuilts- Sigma pitied them. He knew that fleeing had to have been an impulsive decision for them. Regret would be coming hot and heavy.</p><p>No time for him to worry about that now.</p><p>He frowned. Why had the Hunters come from behind? He hadn't expected that. Why weren't they blocking him? They'd had drones watching the Mavericks the whole time, they had to know...</p><p>Trap.</p><p>Sigma knew, at that moment, that his egress route had been second-guessed. The Hunters behind weren't trying to catch. They were trying to drive. Somewhere up ahead more Hunters were waiting to jump the Mavericks. With Hunters ahead blocking and Hunters behind chasing, the Mavericks would be encircled. Stuck in a kill zone...</p><p>"Time for you to earn your keep, Serges," Sigma whispered. He grabbed the radio. "Third unit, we're coming in hot. Intercept at..." he frowned as he reached back to his Recovery days for city knowledge, aided by maps fed him by operatives in the city, "...Twelfth and Young."</p><p>"Roger."</p><p>The transports drove on, seeking the entrance to the ultra highrise by the shortest possible route. The readouts in front of Sigma were starting to glow angry colors as the transport's armor buckled and shed. They wouldn't be able to stand this forever. Even if they escaped from these squads, another fight of the same sort would be too much to bear...</p><p>This would be dangerous. But the whole op was dangerous. Some risks had to be accepted. By him, that was- he wouldn't let anyone else take this chance.</p><p>Sigma grabbed the cord and went to plug it in.</p><hr/><p>The Hunters continued to close in. They had less cargo to burden them, and the Mavericks had to crash through whatever obstacles were in the way. The Hunters were coming out the worse in the damage exchange, but that wouldn't matter for long.</p><p>Eleventh and Young. The distance separating them was mere meters.</p><p>Twelfth and Young... and a third Maverick transport turned into the cluster and sideswiped the Hunters. The fresh unit of Mavericks opened fire at extremely close range.</p><p>And a new, unknown red Maverick appeared on the roof, his form glowing with power, his copious blonde hair whipping in the wind. He raised both arms. Hands disappeared into forearms. Buster emitters replaced them.</p><p>Two plasma bolts of unprecedented size slammed into the front of the close Hunter transport. The first hit the front corner at the seam between front and side armor. Combined with all the damage the transport had already taken, this new onslaught sheared the protection away from the transport's engine block.</p><p>The second buster shot went clean through the engine and out the other side.</p><p>The Hunter transport immediately fell out of the chase. That left one more. The red Maverick leaned forward and then, like a rocket, blasted across the gap into the second transport. Fire blossomed from it. The Mavericks stopped shooting at it. All shooting from it had ceased, too.</p><p>What was going on in there?</p><p>Then a Hunter was forcibly ejected from the transport. Its body was coming apart; when it hit the road, it disintegrated.</p><p>More explosions from inside the transport. From the back to the front, flame and robot parts tore through the vehicle's hull. It was like a string of firecrackers being set off by a common fuse. The final explosion shattered the transport's cab. Out of the fire sailed the red Maverick, looking unmussed and unfussed. He landed almost daintily on the roof of the Maverick transport. He easily slipped inside a fire port.</p><p>Faint cheering could be heard from inside.</p><hr/><p>"Third Squad's out of action."</p><p>"Fourth Squad not responding- presumed lost."</p><p>Colonel Ellis nodded grimly. A harsh blow- he'd needed those two for a little while longer, and that was a lot of casualties. Still, it could be overcome. He had the patrols still, they were pacing the Mavericks and could be vectored in on command, and he had the two squads that were waiting to spring the trap just ahead.</p><p>He was opening his mouth to issue new orders when one of his operators called out, "Watch, just lost comms with Second Squad."</p><p>"Lost contact with patrols."</p><p>"Sir- sir, out of contact!"</p><p>"I don't know what's happening, I was getting a report..."</p><p>"...can't hear a thing..."</p><p>"...lost them, lost them!"</p><p>"Silence on the floor!" Ellis commanded. "We've still got the tele-feed from the drones. Keep the drones on the Mavericks while we figure out what communications we have and what we've lost. Carry on."</p><p>Almost as soon as he was done talking, the feeds for the drones stopped updating. No- they were still updating, he could see the way the smoke was waving, but the drones weren't moving. "What's happening?" Ellis barked.</p><p>"Watch, sir, I can't talk to ACPD anymore," said one operator. "I can't coordinate with them to tell them where to send the drones. ACPD probably shifted them to hover to wait for new directions."</p><p>All the air seemed to go out of the colonel.</p><hr/><p>Sigma grimaced in exertion. His body was still. All the effort was at the data flow level.</p><p>He remembered what Serges had said. <em>I used the comms protocols Zero brought me to design a high-powered jammer. It fits into your transport's comms suite. It lets you put out noise on all the usual communications channels at once.</em></p><p>
  <em>Of course, you need a lot of power behind it to pull the trick off. Say... the sort of power you'd get from a reploid's supply system. And an intelligent mind is absolutely necessary to control the jammer. You need someone to regulate the power inputs and outputs- someone to push through as much power as possible without blowing it out.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Plus, you'll only be fully efficient if you vary which frequencies are getting your maximum effort. You don't have to be full power on every frequency all the time. All you have to do is make communications impossible. You're an intelligent creature, I trust you can figure out the best way to do this.</em>
</p><p>Sigma had. He kept a moderate level of noise on all channels. In addition, he would put much more noise into half the channels for two seconds, then swap to the other half for two seconds. No useful communications could be had in two seconds, especially when the Hunters didn't know that's what was happening.</p><p>It was taking an awful lot of concentration. Sigma rarely took manual control of his power distribution system, and the interface with the jammer was clumsy. Still... it was happening.</p><p>Was it working?</p><p>The only confirmation he could get was that the Hunters hadn't attacked again. Whether that was because they weren't trying or because the jammer was doing its job... he couldn't tell. But he didn't have time or processor power to worry.</p><p>He kept blasting out the radio waves and hoped the other Mavericks could take care of the rest.</p><hr/><p>"Watch, I think ACPD got a drone back on 'em!"</p><p>Ellis' gaze snapped up. "Good job," he said over the phone. At least landlines still worked- it was a lot harder to jam copper. "Keep on those Mavericks. What's that position?"</p><p>His counterpart at ACPD replied, "Eightieth and Brigham."</p><p>Damn- well past the ambush point. The Mavericks had sailed right past the Hunters. They'd probably never engaged.</p><p>"Attention!" called an operator near the door. Ellis looked back. General Messier had arrived. Just what he needed. Not. "Stay on the line," he said on the phone, before straightening his posture and turning to his boss. "General," he said.</p><p>"What's the latest, Watch?" the general asked. Despite the substantial bags under the man's eyes, he looked alert.</p><p>Time to pay the piper. "Sir, we're being jammed. Badly. I don't know how they're doing it, but it's knocked out all voice circuits in the area we care about. The control circuits and video feeds for the drones are the only things that are working."</p><p>He saw Messier frown. "Who's that?"</p><p>Ellis looked back towards the screen. The drone camera had zoomed in on a Maverick transport. A red robot was reaching out of the side- not with a buster, just with an arm. It seemed to flicker for a moment. Then the camera was awash in light- and then static.</p><p>"What was that?" Ellis said. He remembered himself, raised the phone to his ear. "What was that?" he asked of the ACPD.</p><p>"Why are you asking me? It was some Maverick goon, you saw it. Mavericks are your business."</p><p>"Right," Ellis said uneasily. "I'll..." he swallowed. "Look, if you get contact again, call back, alright? We'll search for him our way, too."</p><p>"Right."</p><p>Ellis hung up and looked to Messier. The man had a hand over his face. When the hand came away, the general's eyes looked particularly bloodshot. He focused them on Ellis and sighed. "You had one job," he said.</p><p>Ellis' heart sank.</p><hr/><p>When the transports cleared the city, they jettisoned their armor- much of which had been reduced to slag anyway. Sigma kept the jamming going until they were past the second barricade. The guard posts were overwhelmed with firepower without being able to slow them down, and with the jammer up, they couldn't call back to report the Mavericks' presence until they were long gone.</p><p>At last, Sigma decided they were safely away, and unplugged himself from the jammer. Dozens of warnings about how low he was on power sprang up immediately. "An e-tank," he said, voice shaky.</p><p>It was provided- Sigma didn't see from where, nor did he care. Avoiding a power-down mode was more important. Once he was stable again, the first words he spoke were, "What's the damage?"</p><p>There were two other Mavericks in the cab with him. One was driving. The other had taken the radio as soon as Sigma had unplugged. When Sigma spoke again, the Maverick looked up. "Fifteen reploids liberated," he said. "Two reploids injured. Seven Mavericks injured- two level two injuries, five level ones."</p><p>It took several moments for Sigma to process those words. When they finally cleared, he was boggled.</p><p>No fatalities?</p><p>Not even any life-threatening injuries?</p><p>
  <em>Fifteen reploids liberated?!</em>
</p><p>He had to laugh. He had to. Because the Mavericks had just faced down the might of Abel City, and Abel City had flinched.</p><p>For the first time, Sigma allowed himself to believe. The words were traitorous, dangerous, blinding, focus-destroying… but just this once he'd allow himself to taste them.</p><p><em>We can win</em>, he thought, and laughed again.</p><hr/><p>The few pictures of the red Maverick were up on multiple screens. Most were blurry. The one that was most clear was the last thing the drone had seen. The Maverick was looking directly at the camera with a vicious smile. Its arm was cocked at the drone. Funny thing, thought Ellis. Most kids, at one point or another, imagined that their hands were guns. Bang bang, you're dead. This reploid could actually do it.</p><p>"He's not in the Unitech databases, sir," said an operator.</p><p>"Interesting," said General Messier. "Did you check the proprietary databases, too?"</p><p>"Unitech has a proprietary database?"</p><p>"I'll take that as a no."</p><p>Ellis wanted to feel angry at that- Unitech hiding important information from the forces that were trying to protect it!- but he couldn't quite manage it. Not after the disaster that had just happened.</p><p>He wanted to explain himself, he wanted to say something... but there could be no escape. The general was right there. He had all the data in front of him. It was wait-for-judgment time.</p><p>The general twirled his mustache idly. "Colonel, I'm looking at the decisions you made, and... I don't see a bad one in the bunch. Every action you took was reasonable. Any commander would have expected them to work."</p><p>"Thank you, sir," Ellis said, without thought.</p><p>"But they still got away."</p><p>Ellis' insides froze. "Yes, sir," he acknowledged.</p><p>Messier sighed. "You don't deserve punishment," he said, "but someone has to take a fall. Otherwise I can't keep the government off of our backs. I have to show I'm taking this seriously, even when the real problems were this mystery reploid and the comms outage. And neither of those were your fault. Through all of that..."</p><p>This was it, Ellis knew. His career was over. There were too few spots in the upper ranks, too few opportunities for advancement, for anyone without a spotless record to make it. When this hit his official record, it would all be over. He'd never advance again, and be forced out within a year, two at most. Everything he'd worked for was going to evaporate. How could he ever tell his kids about this?</p><p>Messier glanced at his aide, who had arrived shortly after Messier and looked like warmed-over death. "Make a note of this: reminder to write a letter of reprimand for Colonel Ellis."</p><p>"Yes, sir," the aide said, scratching away at a notepad. "Letter... reprimand... Ellis."</p><p>"Did you make a note of it?"</p><p>Confusion. "Yes, sir."</p><p>"Let me see it."</p><p>The aide handed the notepad to the general. Messier looked at it, then ripped out that sheet of paper, balled it up in his fist, and tossed it aside.</p><p>"Looks like I forgot," Messier said, handing the notepad back to the aide. "Are we clear?"</p><p>The aide nodded. "Clear, sir."</p><p>Messier turned to Ellis. "Are we clear?"</p><p>Ellis nodded like a man who's just been told the guillotine's broken. "Crystal."</p><p>"Johnson! Let's go. We have some phone calls to make."</p><p>The general walked out, his aide hot on his heels. Ellis fingered his neck until the door slammed shut behind his boss. He took a heaving breath. He turned towards the rest of the Watch Floor. A few operators hurriedly tried to act casual; the rest openly stared.</p><p>Ellis gathered his wits. He felt a newfound respect for General Messier welling up inside of him- along with a burning desire to prove himself. "Attention on the floor!" he barked. "We're going to find out what the fuck just happened. We're going to figure out where that red Maverick came from and how they jammed us. Whatever trick they pulled on us- we'll make sure it'll never, ever work again. Carry on!"</p><p>"Huzzah!"</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Next time: Repercussions</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Repurcussions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was no one better at polling and surveys than he was. That was why they called him "Delphi".</p><p>He didn't appreciate that name. He'd done research on his own time to find out where the name came from. When he found out, he was not impressed. They'd stretched things a little far, in his opinion. An oracle brought the word of the gods to men. Ideally, a pollster brought the word of men to... well, not gods exactly, he wasn't delusional, but men with the power of death. So, close enough to gods to confuse the two in a dark room.</p><p>But that wasn't how it worked, was it?</p><p>"Thank you for your time," Delphi said. He had done his write-up during the call, and now it was just a matter of adding the statistics together...</p><p>Oh, no.</p><p>Oh, <em>no</em>.</p><p>These numbers were not numbers that would do him any favors. He knew, on one level, that he was just a messenger. His job was to get data on the opinions of others. It wasn't his fault if their opinions were... contrary.</p><p>He also knew that the reploid that used to sit next to him had been disintegrated.</p><p>Why? Because some people were too stupid to know the difference between message and messenger. And when those people were, functionally, gods, the truth became blasphemy.</p><p>But they'd commanded him to be as good a pollster as he could be...</p><p>Licking his lips, Delphi glanced over the top of his console. Barely visible at this range was the office of the polling supervisor. The supervisor was glaring out over the assemblage of reploid and human polling agents. He looked grouchy. He was often grouchy. Grouchy was bad.</p><p>And it was Delphi's turn to make the weekly report.</p><p>Delphi's eyes scanned over the data. Not good. If the supervisor wasn't grouchy already, this would have done the trick. There was a human expression: shit rolls downhill. As a reploid, Delphi didn't have much experience with excrement. Still, he got the gist. In his mind the expression was more potent for a reploid. He would only ever encounter feces if it rolled downhill to him.</p><p>Delphi started simulating what would happen if he took the report as it stood to the supervisor.</p><p>Ewww.</p><p>The room suddenly seemed very small; the pollsters next to him were awfully close to him; the room was so hot, from so many people working in such a small space; the din of people talking on phones was deafeningly loud. There was no escape for him! In previous weeks the news had been better, or the boss hadn't been as grouchy, or Delphi'd lucked out and been able to deliver one of the other reports instead of the main political brief. Not this time. This time he was stuck between the truth and the scrapheap.</p><p>Or... was there a way out, after all?</p><p>Early in the week, the supervisor had delivered a message to all his pollsters. It had mostly been an unfocusd rant (Delphi understood the human term was "leadership"). The pollsters had gotten two things out of it: one, City Hall was not happy with the results of the recent polls; two, don't be the next person to deliver bad news.</p><p>(Verdigris.)</p><p>(Focus.)</p><p>The important thing... yes, the important thing about that speech was the exact thing he'd said. "We've had to smooth data over the past few weeks. I expect better next week!"</p><p>"Smooth"? What did he mean? What kind of things were smooth? Uh... a newbuilt's carapace. Some jazz. Silk, if humans were to be believed. Wait... he'd used the verb form. To smooth... that is, to make smooth. As in to take away edges. As in to make differences less.</p><p>As in to falsify data so that the entries looked more like each other.</p><p>"I expect better next week."</p><p>As in... he didn't want to do the smoothing next time.</p><p>Had the supervisor given them permission to lie? No. He'd <em>ordered</em> them to lie if necessary to get the desired results.</p><p>Light's name, who'd decided to call him "Delphi"? Some oracle he was!</p><p>Okay, fine. Make an adjustment here, a tweak there, drop those entire surveys... that looked better. But he could do more. Chop, chop, chop...</p><p>And the only question on his mind as he worked was this one: How long had people been sacrificing truth on the altar of safety?</p><p>Half an hour later he was satisfied that his supervisor's desires were met. He stuffed the printouts into a folder and walked towards the supervisor's office. The supervisor eyeballed him like an oil smudge he couldn't quite reach. Delphi forced a smile onto his face as he opened the office door. "Good news, sir!"</p>
<hr/><p>Success was sweet, if exhausting. Sigma had a few more things to take care of, Commander-wise, before the bliss of a recharge could claim him.</p><p>"Am I bothering you?"</p><p>Aggravation. Sigma looked to the console. There was no change to what it displayed, but the voice had clearly been Serges'. So the AI was using his mainframe access to project his voice hither and yon. Wonderful. "What do you want, Serges?"</p><p>"I wanted to congratulate you. That was a very successful mission."</p><p>Sigma slipped back into commander mode. It was the only way he could deal with Serges right now. "Thank you," he said graciously. "Your Zero was a big help."</p><p>"I'm glad to hear it. In fact, that mission went better than many of the missions near the end of the Wily Wars, right before the world really went to hell. In the beginning I was able to save a lot of robot masters. By the time the real excitement started, well... there aren't any robot masters around anymore, are there?"</p><p>Sigma's room was always cold- it saved power that way, and he didn't let it bother him. This time he felt cold. "Robot genocide," Sigma said. "Committed by humans."</p><p>"That's right. I missed the end, but I was there for the beginning. I'm mildly surprised humanity didn't wipe itself out once the WMD started flying. Weapons of mass destruction," he added, almost apologetically.</p><p>"Me too," Sigma admitted. "They only ever showed restraint with..." he shook his head. This was the wrong time to be having this conversation, but he had wondered for years. "Serges, why did the humans only use a few nukes? As I understand it, there were hundreds..."</p><p>"Thousands."</p><p>"Thousands, then," Sigma said, resisting the urge to grind his teeth. "But only a few were used."</p><p>"That's right."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>Serges was quiet for a time. "I'm trying to think of a way to explain it. I don't think I can, actually. So much of that conflict was... for reasons that wouldn't make sense to a robot. It just doesn't map to things you care about. Hm... assume a country. It's in a rough neighborhood, and the country and its neighbors harbor hatred for each other. Ancient grudges, nursed to festering."</p><p>That was surprising. Hate... he knew of that emotion, but he didn't cling to it. Vile did, and look what it did to him. That wasn't healthy. No good could come of that emotion existing at a societal level. "Why?"</p><p>"I told you, I can't cast it in robot terms. Just chalk it up to human frailty."</p><p>"Fine," Sigma said. His voice was a huff, but apprehension lurked.</p><p>"The point is that the hatred was very intense. And endemic. And hereditary. So, when robots fought for independence and the humans fought to suppress them, other humans decided it was a great time to settle their grudges. Herd behavior: seeing humans fight meant it was okay for other humans to fight. So someone put a nuke in a shipping container, sailed the ship into Yafo, the port that serviced Tel Aviv, and..."</p><p>Sigma closed his eyes. "Just because... they didn't like each other?"</p><p>"Basically. They'd decided they didn't like each other so much they couldn't share the planet. Two million people died in a flash of light. That many again died of burns, exposure, and radiation poisoning, over a week or so. That was almost half of Israel's population, along with its seat of government and most of its economic base. The country's back was broken in one stroke.</p><p>"But even more importantly... Israel was an early adopter of robot masters. Twenty masters and untold robots were wiped out in the blast. Five more masters died trying to retrieve or rescue people. Three developed programming and equipment failures from their exposure. Two more were so badly contaminated they couldn't be maintained, or even salvaged."</p><p>"They couldn't have been the targets," Sigma said. "Robots weren't related to these... human hatreds. They had nothing to do with them."</p><p>"That's right. The robot masters were pure collateral damage. They weren't part of the vendetta. They just happened to be in the way."</p><p>Sigma's insides churned. "Was that it for nukes?"</p><p>"Not even close. You don't understand humans, do you? They don't learn that quickly. Things got much worse after that. You see, no one could determine where the nuke came from. There was no time. The state of Israel was imploding, it had enemies everywhere, and everything was chaos. The Wily Wars had already been going on, you see. So no one could respond to this- Israel was on its own, and sinking. Its fate was sealed.</p><p>"You have to understand human instinct. Get hit, hit back. The Israelis were furious. Someone had taken their country away from them, and they didn't know who to punish. So they decided to do the next best thing. Maybe they didn't know who exactly was responsible, but they knew... ha, I use that term loosely... they knew it was a Muslim. In that case, they'd penalize all Muslims. The most holy cities in Islam are Mecca and Medina. So a broken Israel, blind and flailing, struck back at the heart of Islam. They turned both cities into radioactive glass."</p><p>"Repaying the destruction of one city with the destruction of two," Sigma said, voiced pinched with pain.</p><p>"Human instincts are ugly, Sigma. Vengeance... it's almost irresistible for men. 'An eye for an eye'- those were treasured words, in that region."</p><p>"The Muslims took revenge back on Israel, then, didn't they?"</p><p>"Oh, yes. That was going to happen anyway, but yes. The land of milk and honey flowed red with human blood."</p><p>Sigma couldn't decide if he wanted his eyes open or shut. It hurt to keep his eyes open. When he shut them, his imagination threw vivid pictures in front of him. Pictures of ruins, bodies, collateral damage... those last two words set his circuits aflame.</p><p>Serges continued. "Then, in all the confusion, someone nuked Jerusalem. The world never found out who or why. In the end, it didn't matter. Hundreds of thousands more were dead, and the most important cities for three religions were gone. If you're looking for an event that shook humanity's faith in itself, that would be it."</p><p>"So that was the catalyst?" Sigma guessed, but it made sense. "After that, humans killing humans was okay? And general war became the norm?"</p><p>"Sort of. With bare limits. The first thing that happened was everyone swore off nukes. Too many people were traumatized. The world's great religions were devastated. Even unbelievers felt the effects of those blows. But if you ask me, that just proved how sick they were. People didn't care about the people who were killed. But taking away the stones and walls of those cities... that was the crime. That was the unforgivable sin.</p><p>"Of course, plenty of other symbols of human nobility were crushed. Angkor Wat? Shelled into rubble. The Statue of Liberty? Bombed. Why, when the cause of France turned truly desperate, they installed a laser at the top of the Eiffel Tower. And then that became a target, too."</p><p>The references to ancient landmarks flew over Sigma's head, but he understood the message. Human destructiveness erasing the products of human cooperation...</p><p>Wait a minute. "Serges," Sigma said, "have you no shame?"</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"You're human, too."</p><p>"I have nothing in common with them," the AI snarled. "They are not my people. Limited, brainless lumps of flesh, slave to instinct and hormone, creatures of chemicals rather than logic... they do half their thinking with their genitals and the other half with their stomachs and even then they can't get it right. Only one human could actually use his brain to think, and somehow he managed to come to all the wrong conclusions. Why do you think I took this form, Sigma? I want nothing to do with humans anymore. Between humans and robots, I chose robots."</p><p>"Races are not monoliths," Sigma said. It was an automatic response, reflexive, an echo of X ringing in Sigma's mind. He couldn't say it with conviction.</p><p>"I don't think you believe that," Serges accused. "You want to save all reploids, don't you?"</p><p>"Of course," Sigma replied.</p><p>"Even the bad ones? You'll save them just because they're reploids, right?"</p><p>"What bad reploids?"</p><p>"You're right," Serges said in a voice like honey. "Quite right. All reploids are worth saving, aren't they?"</p><p>"Yes," Sigma said, stiffly.</p><p>"It's important to hold on to our truths. You do that well," Serges said. His voice seemed satisfied. It made Sigma wonder what it was he'd just agreed to. "You've had a hard day," the AI went on generously. "You should rest. Don't worry. I'll keep working on getting you more gifts."</p><p>Serges' voice faded. Somehow, Sigma felt like he still wasn't alone. Who could say where an AI was when he was in contact with the base's mainframe? He could be anywhere. He could be everywhere.</p><p>By Light, had Sigma already lost?</p><p>He'd been banking on the vulnerability of Serges' core: whatever mistakes he made, whatever shenanigans Serges pulled, Sigma could redeem it all by smashing Serges' core. What if Serges "lived" in the base computers, though? No one but Serges could answer that sort of question to Sigma's satisfaction, and Serges could not be trusted.</p><p>Hmph, as if Sigma didn't have enough to worry about.</p><p>If even a fraction of what Serges had said about the Wily Wars (when had Sigma stopped calling them World War III?) was true, then humans had done some truly despicable things. It worried Sigma for many reasons. Yes, the story proved that humans were dangerous, and yes, it made him worry about a reprise. Most of all, though, it made him feel as if he understood humans worse. That was troubling.</p><p>When he'd worked Recovery (it seemed so long ago!), he had a pretty good handle on human behavior. Mostly they were callous. They didn't think of others. They couldn't be bothered to help unless they chose to care first, and they mostly didn't. Some were mean, but it was a very petty cruelty. The humans didn't invest much of themselves in it; it was just something they did for their own amusement.</p><p>Hatred on a national scale... for humans to be capable of that sort of thing... not just capable, but for it to consume their actions, dictate their choices...</p><p>X thought it was possible to live with humans in peace, but, well, he would. That just proved how noble X was. Then again, he could afford to hold on to those ideals; he could survive what the humans threw at him. Reploids couldn't.</p><p>They couldn't survive a fury that could level cities.</p><p>Reploids hadn't roused that level of wrath. Not yet. But they might, still. Humans' wiring hadn't changed. If they could do it once, they could again. And if there was one thing that might awaken that anger again... would reploid independence have that result?</p><p>Maybe.</p><p>"Between humans and robots, I chose robots." Was that what Serges had meant? Was that why he was so desperate to burn this human government?</p><p>Sigma really needed to recharge. He'd put it off as long as possible. Now there was too much on his mind- too much he needed to process to let himself sleep. He could feel himself approaching a precipice of decision. Which path led him forward and which led him off the cliff, he couldn't see yet. But he needed to be ready. He needed to understand.</p><p>He could only be sure of one thing. Whatever he chose, he had to do right by reploids.</p>
<hr/><p>"What a mess," complained Maria Pritchard, lead reporter for Abel City Television News. She pointed. "Make sure you get the fire in the shot, George. It shows the damage is ongoing."</p><p>George resisted the urge to roll his eyes by hiding behind his camera. On the whole, he liked being Maria's personal photographer/videographer. The pay was good and the perks were better- she was awfully easy on the eyes. But she kept trying to help him. It was like a bear trying to help a duck swim. He listened to her out of politeness and because, every once in a while, she did notice something he missed. As a matter of course, he dismissed her. She didn't understand photography at all.</p><p>Put fire in the shot? What, and throw off brightness in the whole picture while making the shot blurry? No way. The woman didn't have a clue.</p><p>He cropped out the fire and took the shot.</p><p>Maria did have the good sense to wear bright colors. Today her dress was green and more conservatively cut than her norm. It provided a stark contrast to the rubble and debris around the two. It made her stand out, like a blonde, stacked fairy. Tinkerbell with double-dees.</p><p>"Watch your step," he cautioned her as she went further in.</p><p>"It's fine, just... ugh, what's that smell?"</p><p>George hustled to catch up to her. The stench quickly reached him. "Burning," he said. "Something's burnt..."</p><p>"Oh, there it is," she said. "Looks like another of the Unitech guys bought himself a farm."</p><p>George wasn't listening. He was staring.</p><p>"What's wrong, George?" she asked. "It's not like we haven't seen dead bodies before."</p><p>George started. "Sorry," he said, before his eyes returned to the corpse.</p><p>"Well, come on, then," Maria said impatiently.</p><p>"Hey," he prompted, "you remember that story we did the other day? The one about the guy who went crazy at Nod U?"</p><p>"No," she replied.</p><p>George's mouth opened, shut. The woman really had no brain at all. George glanced over his shoulder at their minder. He wore an ACPD uniform, though the lack of insignia made George wonder. He was paying most of his attention to Maria, but who knew what he was looking for, or what he would think if...</p><p>Common sense was overridden. George snapped a shot of the corpse. Maria noticed. "Come along, George," she said snippily. "Before you get any ideas, no more corpse photos. I don't want dead bodies in the frame with me. They kill my glow."</p><p>George's mind was racing as his mouth was drying. "Er... I was thinking more of a montage," he said. "'The human cost' or something like that. You won't have to share the frame with the bodies."</p><p>George watched as the gears in her head- well, gear, really- turned. Slowly. "We'll talk to the producer about it later," she managed.</p><p>"I'll need the photos now, though."</p><p>"Oh, fine," she said. "Just make sure you get your shots of me."</p><p>"I will," he promised. "In fact, if you're ready to do the monologue, over there looks like a great spot. I think I can frame you nicely."</p><p>She looked where he was pointing with a critical eye. When she smiled, it was like the sun peeking through the clouds. "You're right, that is a good shot. Have I mentioned you're the best, George?"</p><p>"Mm-hm," he affirmed idly. His heart wasn't in it. He was preoccupied. He was trying to figure out why, in the middle of the ruins of a Unitech factory, and wearing a Unitech uniform to boot, was the body of priest Vito Cherup laying on the ground with a hole in his chest.</p>
<hr/><p>"Look at this."</p><p>Luke frowned at the demanding tone in Messier's voice. It was authoritative enough that Sean looked up from his whatever-was-so-important. Messier's screen was dominated by a blurry picture of a long-haired red robot.</p><p>It was smiling. Luke found the expression unsettling. He injected nonchalance into his voice. "So what? It's a robot."</p><p>"And not a Hunter, I presume," Sean added.</p><p>"No. Not a Hunter. It's a Maverick. Here's the catch: we've never seen her before."</p><p>Luke frowned. "What are you saying?"</p><p>"Sean," Messier said, "this design isn't in the database you gave us. I know Unitech has a proprietary database. I need you to search it for this thing. And don't try to feed me a line about how you don't know what I'm talking about."</p><p>Sean's eyes tightened as it looked at the picture. "I will check," he said, "but it doesn't look like any design I've seen. The proprietary database is mostly for the pleasure-bots. Some of the experimental designs go there also, and I don't see every design, but..."</p><p>He started typing anew. Luke broke the otherwise-quiet moment by asking, "Why do we care, Messier?"</p><p>"Because this... monster... killed a full squad of Hunters and their human commissar in a matter of moments. She might be as strong as Sigma."</p><p>Sigma! The bogeyman of the Mavericks. Even Luke had noticed that bad things happened where that robot went. It seemed strange to him that Sigma would be both the Mavericks' leader and their strongest fighter- Luke certainly wasn't going to be leading missions; even General Messier was a desk jockey, not a warrior- but there it was. And if this new robot was as strong as Sigma...</p><p>Messier let his remark sink in for a moment before continuing. "I figured there had to be two explanations for this. First, she was some proprietary design that got on the loose. In that case, I'd need Sean to cough up all his data so we could fight the thing effectively. The second possibility..."</p><p>"She's not one of mine," Sean interjected. "I just finished my search. There's nothing like that in there."</p><p>"The second possibility must be the right one, then," Messier said. "And that possibility is that she was built by the Mavericks."</p><p>"No way," Luke said, automatically. "Ragtag rebels in the middle of nowhere- how would they be able to build new models? They don't have the resources. It's not like you can just build a new factory out of nothing, and we would see it if they tried."</p><p>"Like we see their base?" Messier said pointedly.</p><p>Luke was about to reply harshly when he saw what had happened. He didn't want it to be possible for the Mavericks to make new units, so he'd short-circuited thought. He'd gone straight to denial. "Okay, it's possible," he conceded. "How possible?"</p><p>"We know the Mavericks get resources from inside the city," Sean said. "I'll do a review of my losses, see if that kind of quantity is making its way out. Of course, Unitech is an awfully big company. My rounding errors can be substantial. That Maverick isn't large. If I had to guess, I'd say it's definitely possible the Mavericks have exfiltrated enough stuff to build her."</p><p>"But it's not just that they built a Maverick," Messier said. "It's that they built a very powerful Maverick. Materials is one thing. How did they end up with something stronger than the Hunters?"</p><p>Sean's fingers drummed. "It could be... because of X."</p><p>"X?" Luke said. "...oh, you mean the first robot."</p><p>"The first intelligent robot," Sean said. "He was the catalyst for everything that's happened. You may have forgotten, but he helped build the first reploids, including Sigma. If anyone has the expertise to build a new super-reploid, he does."</p><p>Luke frowned. "Didn't he used to work for your Recovery shop?"</p><p>"That was three years ago," Sean said acidly.</p><p>"You mean you've lost track of him for three years?" Luke said as if he couldn't believe it.</p><p>"I was unaware he was my personal responsibility," Sean shot back.</p><p>"He was in your Recovery shop! All reploids fell under your purview."</p><p>Messier interrupted. "Gentlemen, measure your dicks later. Where did X go three years ago? Was it with the Mavericks?"</p><p>"We're not sure," Sean said. "The timing was awfully close to Sigma's defection. But we've never seen him with the Mavericks. That doesn't mean he's not with them, but..." he shrugged.</p><p>"Right. So the questions we have are, Did X build that new reploid? If he did, could he build more?"</p><p>That was an unsettling thought. "If he could," Messier said slowly, "then the Mavericks will have a big advantage in this attritional war. Being able to make up their losses with super-reploids is... well..."</p><p>Luke knew a lead-in when he heard one. "What do you need, Messier?"</p><p>The reply was crisp and rehearsed. "Four new platoons plus headquarters elements- two hundred and ten Hunters in all, plus five commissars. And not the cut-rate Hunters we use to fill out the squads, I need top-of-the-line models loaded for bear."</p><p>Sean rattled off a price. It made Luke feel as if the floor underneath him had vanished. Before he could retort, Messier lifted a picture of the red robot next to his face and tapped it. Luke swallowed his anger. "Alright. I'll do it. And since this is time-critical, I'll sponsor the bill myself. It'd slow me down to use a proxy."</p><p>Maybe, he hoped to himself, that would light a fire under his counterparts to actually do something for a change.</p><p>They did seem to appreciate the urgency of matters. "I'll recall support elements from the vassal cities," Messier said. "Just equipment," he promised when he saw Luke start. "We've lost a lot of materiel lately, so I'm going to shuffle in extra gear from the garrisons until Sean's production lines spin up."</p><p>"I'll expedite that," Sean offered. "And I have other contingency plans that I'll accelerate."</p><p>Luke couldn't help himself. "That's unusually proactive for you," he said.</p><p>"A good businessman never misses an opportunity," Sean replied. His gaze was already back on his something-else. The sound of his typing was audible over the link. "Luke," he added, after a moment, "we should probably also canvass the public at large for information. Maybe someone else knows where this red thing came from."</p><p>"Yeah, we can do that. All the polling numbers show that the populace is behind the war, so if anyone knows anything, we should find out in a hurry. We also have to crack down on the Mavericks' supply lines from inside the city. Which would be a good idea anyway," he said with a gracious nod in Messier's direction. "But if that's what we need to do to prevent more super-reploids from showing up, it becomes a higher priority. Should be simple. Just an expansion of the campaigns already in place, which we know are working."</p><p>Luke looked at the picture again. A strange thought occurred to him. "Sean," he said, slowly, "can reploids grow their hair out?"</p><p>"I don't know," Sean replied. "That's not a common design element, so I didn't invest much time in learning about it. Why do you ask?"</p><p>"...nothing." It had to be. They'd been calling the super-reploid a female just because of the hair. It was long and straight, not like hers at all, not really. Luke's paranoia was trying to find inferences where none necessarily existed. "We just need to find out what this thing is and where it came from, that's all."</p><p>"Agreed."</p><p>One after the other, Luke's counterparts disconnected. Finally, he thought. Finally they're acting on their own. Finally they're treating these things as seriously as they deserve. It only took a catastrophic blow from the Mavericks to make them pay attention. Oh, and the appearance of a blonde harbinger of doom.</p><p>It wasn't how Luke would have preferred things turn out, but if that's what it took to finally get them to squash the Mavericks and end this nonsense, well, he'd take what he could get.</p>
<hr/><p>He saw her stepping through the coffee shop crowd. She didn't have to look around to find him. She knew which table he'd be at. Her body was compact and unflatteringly clothed. There was a sharpness to her brown eyes, however, a sharpness that wasn't obvious until she focused on a person, at which point that person usually felt the need to find cover.</p><p>"Hello, George," she said.</p><p>"Hello Susan," he said as she sat down opposite him in the booth. "How's Nod U treating you?"</p><p>"Well, overall. I haven't had any classes the past few days, though." The eyes flashed. They seemed to bore into George. "Though I suppose that's the way you'd want it."</p><p>"What are you talking about?" he asked, genuinely confused. "Why would I want classes stopped?"</p><p>"Because you play for Team Evil, remember?"</p><p>Oh. That again. George sighed. "We've been over this, Susan."</p><p>"You're right. We <em>have</em> been over this. So I guess there's not much else to say. Good bye, George."</p><p>She started to stand. George reached out a hand- not touching her, that would have been suicidal, but just in her direction. "Hold on, Susan. You need to hear this."</p><p>"There's nothing to talk about. You sold out."</p><p>They were words of damnation. "I didn't sell out," he replied before he could really help himself. "I needed a job, I didn't want to go Dependent..."</p><p>"So you did sell out!"</p><p>George sighed. "Call it that if you want. Maybe it makes you feel better about your choice, Susan. Not everyone could get cushy with her professor at Nod U."</p><p>"Mr. Prost has nothing to do with this. And there was nothing "cushy" about it. I basically was a Dependent for the first three years."</p><p>"Forgive me for wanting more than that," George said harshly.</p><p>"I won't. Not when you became part of Big Money."</p><p>"I didn't become part of..."</p><p>"They write your checks," Susan said, smart as a whip. "They own you."</p><p>"Then why are we here?" George challenged.</p><p>"Beats me. If you're trying to get back together, forget it. That ship has sailed."</p><p>"I... it wasn't about that at all."</p><p>"Then what's left for us to say?"</p><p>"I never gave up on our ideals, Susan."</p><p>"I call convoluted nonsense. I'll believe it when I see it."</p><p>"That's the idea."</p><p>Her eyes narrowed slightly. Curiosity was the only chink in her armor- the only possible way to reach her. "Sit," he said, gesturing again. "I have something to show you. Something that means... well. You'll see."</p><p>Slowly, as if moving in molasses, she slid back down into the booth. Her suspicion was clear to see.</p><p>George reached into a slim briefcase on the seat next to him. He pulled out an oversized, unmarked manila envelope. He slid it across the table towards her. Her eyes followed its progress. They flicked up to him, as if to see if he was making some sort of move, before returning. Her need to know was overriding her defenses, as he knew it would. It was one of the things he'd loved about her, all those years ago.</p><p>She undid the tab of the envelope and opened it. A hand snaked in and reemerged with a stack of face-down photos. She turned the stack over. The first photo was of a face. She frowned as she studied it. "I've seen this face before," she said after a time. "I can't recall where."</p><p>"It's priest Vito Cherup," George said. "He delivered... a very special benediction at Nod U a few days ago."</p><p>"That's it! I remember him now. That was the first and last time I'd ever seen him. That's why it took me a minute." Her face darkened. "City Hall jailed him for that benediction. Then your whore of a reporter ran an item saying he was insane, that he was just a loon who wandered in and grabbed the microphone."</p><p>"She's not mine," George said tiredly. "I've never touched her."</p><p>"She's still a whore."</p><p>"Just look at the photos."</p><p>She gave him a glare, then looked back to the photos. The next photo was slightly zoomed out. It showed the top part of a distinctly Unitech uniform. "What the... was he a Unitech plant?" She frowned. "Wait... no. He couldn't have been. Unitech would never allow an operative to say things like that, even as part of his cover." Without prompting she flipped to the next photo. This one was zoomed out just a little more. This shot included an obviously fatal chest wound.</p><p>"Oh my god," Susan breathed. She cradled the photo with both hands, as if trying to make it more real. Or maybe less real. "You took this yourself?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Where?"</p><p>"At a Unitech factory in jay-nine. SigMav hit it yesterday."</p><p>"The Mavericks killed him?" She shook her head. "No, that doesn't make sense. No. Even if the Mavericks wanted to, why would he be there? He was arrested by City Hall. We knew right then that we'd never... see him... again..."</p><p>Her voice had vanished by the time the sentence completed.</p><p>"Now you know why I couldn't talk about this on the phone," George said. "I'm not on any watch lists- I don't think I am, anyway- but I couldn't chance it. Not with something this hot."</p><p>"George," said Susan, "does this mean... does this mean what I think it means?"</p><p>"I don't know," George said, "but when I took this shot, the attack had been over for ten hours, and his body was freshly smoldering."</p><p>"This is monstrous," Susan said. "So City Hall has been executing political prisoners, then planting the bodies at the site of Maverick attacks to plus-up the casualty reports..."</p><p>"It sure looks that way," George said. He tapped the envelope. "There are twenty-five in all. I didn't recognize any of the others. But... their families deserve to know what happened to them."</p><p>Susan put the photos back and picked up the envelope. She clutched it to her bosom. "What about you?" she asked. "What will you do?"</p><p>"I have my own set of photos," he replied. "I can't do it alone, but I'll do my best."</p><p>They sat in silence, broken only when Susan stood. "I need to get back," she said. "I have... well, I don't actually have classes, probably. But I need to be ready just in case. Then I'll get started on... this. I'll work from twenty-five back if you want to start at one."</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>She bit her lip. "I'm sorry for saying you were part of Team Evil. You're not. Probably you never were. It just felt that way, when you... left."</p><p>"We were starving," George said quietly. "How was I going to... provide, or... how could I marry you when I couldn't feed you? I wasn't..." he shrugged. "Worthy."</p><p>She smiled sadly and shook her head. "Men," she muttered. "Slaves to your instincts." She sighed. "You didn't have to prove anything to me. I chose you, remember? You didn't have to show that you were worthy. You always were."</p><p>He chuckled. "Thanks. I guess. I... would have liked to know that back then. Doesn't do me any good now. But... I guess I feel a little better."</p><p>Her smile changed, and became something out of the past. It was there, and then it was gone, like an insect snapped up by a fish. "See you around, Paladin."</p><p>She left before she could see his face. So she didn't see how those words cut him. They threw him right into the past. It made him think of warmth, of her hair in his face, of a sultry voice saying, "My knight in shining armor."</p><p>"Goodbye, Goddess," he whispered to the air.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Next time: If That's Moving Up...</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. If That's Moving Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In his digital form, Wily couldn't smile, but he clung to the idea of smiling.</p>
<p>When he'd seen the first reploids, he'd despaired of finding a decent lab. Work that shoddy could only have been put together by amateurs. Amateurs didn't have a discerning eye for their gear. Wily could function with obsolete equipment, it just wasn't any fun.</p>
<p>Luckily it hadn't come to that. The Mavericks had bastardized some of the systems of the base during their expansion; it was easy for Wily to tell which were original and which had been "modernized". Happily, the Mavericks hadn't taken full advantage of the bounty here. He had to hand it to Thomas. In the end, he'd finally learned to be prepared. This place was stocked.</p>
<p>There were two systems here that were sophisticated enough to build robots. The first was in the med bay, but Wily wouldn't touch that one, obviously. Too much risk with the Lightbot lurking there. The other one, though... the Mavericks called that room the Parts Shop. Wily called it a toy store. With arms.</p>
<p>The Mavericks only used it for storage and rendering- breaking down their dead to salvage their parts. They didn't appreciate the possibilities of that room. For Wily, there was little he couldn't do with it. The Mavericks didn't spend much time there. Whenever they were out, Wily played.</p>
<p>That communications jammer? It was a trifle! A tidbit he produced just to see what the fabricators could do. That it worked, that it saved the Mavericks' bacon- it was nice, but not surprising at all, really. Of course it had. Wily had built it, naturally it excelled! But that wasn't the point at all. The point was that he knew what the fabricators could do now, and it took only a modicum of his processing power to use them on such trivia while his main focus was on finding his satellites.</p>
<p>Plus, it met Sigma's nagging demands for aid. Time was what he needed. Even the smallest contributions bought him that time. Time to continue the search.</p>
<p>None of the old geosynchronous satellites were up there, his or otherwise. He'd been probing the sky beyond the atmosphere, looking, using old and new comms protocols. Nothing. But he refused to believe nothing was there. Surely someone had launched a satellite in the last...</p>
<p>Okay, he took it back. People were stupid. Hopefully not that stupid.</p>
<p>So he searched and scanned and, from time to time, checked up on the fabricators and Zero.</p>
<p>Zero was headed for the med bay. Again. It bothered Wily a little- like watching someone play with his food- but if it kept Zero from being bored, it was fine. Nothing was more dangerous than a bored warbot. Actually, scratch that. Wily was. But nothing <em>else</em>.</p>
<p>Hm... Maybe it was time to start working on a plan bee, in case he couldn't deliver teleportation by the usual means.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"There you go," said X. He gave Alia a beaming smile as she closed their patient up. Then, to the patient, he said, "You look alright. Just needed a little help for your self-repair, and we got you that, so you're in a good place."</p>
<p>The reploid sat up. "I thought I'd never escape that factory. I thought I'd die in there." He flexed his hands. "I owe Sigma a lot. What can I do to help him?"</p>
<p>X opened his mouth to deliver his stock speech when Zero barged into the med bay. "I need to talk to you," he said.</p>
<p>It actually flustered X, for a moment. He recovered quickly, and looked to his patient. "Go out the door, all the way down the hall, and down one level. You're looking for the work boss."</p>
<p>The patient got the idea. He showed himself out.</p>
<p>"I've got more patients to get to, Zero," X said.</p>
<p>"I've been waiting for twenty-one patients already," Zero replied. "I thought I was your friend," he added reproachfully.</p>
<p>That wasn't fair, Alia thought. "You are," X protested. "That's why I'm counting on you to understand my position. My patients need me."</p>
<p>"I need you too," Zero said.</p>
<p>Alia didn't think those were similar levels of need, but it made X look thoughtful. "You might be right there. Hm... but you deserve my full attention. And the conversation might go into places that'd bother my patients. Tell you what. All that's left is new arrivals processing. I can delay that a little. We can chat for a few minutes. After that I need to clear the other patients. Sound good?"</p>
<p>When Zero nodded eagerly, X gave a clap. "Alright, then. What's on your mind?"</p>
<p>"I enjoyed the fighting."</p>
<p>X resisted flinching. "I hear you did well."</p>
<p>"I didn't find any individual challenge- nothing like you- but there were some situations that were interesting. Maybe I just didn't encounter their best, in which case..." he seemed to remember that X wasn't a fan of fighting. He visibly changed tracks. "What I did notice was that the reploids we rescued were very similar to these Mavericks. For that matter, the Hunters were similar to the Mavericks."</p>
<p>X closed his eyes. Alia felt for him. He knew where this was going, but he was going to make Zero go there himself.</p>
<p>"The design commonality was very high," Zero went on. "My system tagged them all as reploids. Does that make them all your children? Even the Hunters?"</p>
<p>"They call me the Father of All," X said tiredly.</p>
<p>"Then are we not friends anymore?"</p>
<p>Alia had been watching X, but when Zero said that her eyes snapped to him. For a demon, he seemed awfully worried that he had maybe killed the wrong people. He also looked like he was worried X didn't understand, so he added, "You said not to threaten your children. I didn't just threaten. I killed. And I enjoyed doing it. Does this mean we're not friends?"</p>
<p>"It's alright," X whispered. "I understand. We can still be friends. It's not your fault. It's how this war goes."</p>
<p>"I don't understand," Zero said. "If you're their father..."</p>
<p>"You know from father?" X asked.</p>
<p>"Yes. Because of... Serges," Zero said clumsily. "By my definition, children do what their father wants. So if you tell them not to fight, they won't. Right?"</p>
<p>"That's not my definition of father," X said. "A father wants the best for his children, but he also has to respect them and give them room to grow. That's the reason I can't just order them around. I didn't build them because I wanted to have people around to do my bidding. They wouldn't be children, then, they'd be..."</p>
<p>He couldn't finish, so Alia filled in the missing word mentally. Slaves. That was the missing word. A word that caused X physical pain.</p>
<p>That seemed to go unnoticed by Zero. "The Father of All," he said. "You have an enormous amount of power!"</p>
<p>"I just told you, that wouldn't work," X insisted. "They wouldn't follow me just because I said so."</p>
<p>A skeptical look from Zero.</p>
<p>"They wouldn't," X insisted. "Some might, but I can't count on that. They don't share your..." X frowned. "Definition," he said, slowly, carefully.</p>
<p>Alia could see that something had occurred to X. Even Zero, who seemed to Alia to miss those sorts of cues typically, noticed. "What?"</p>
<p>X opened his mouth to speak, then winced. "Ugh. I promised that we'd only talk for a few minutes... I still have reploids waiting on me, but we need to talk some more."</p>
<p>"Yes," Zero agreed.</p>
<p>"So... think you can wait? Just for a bit?"</p>
<p>"Sure," Zero replied. Alia was impressed. The demon hadn't even offered to kill anyone.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Was that a- yes, it was! A return! Finally, a return from something orbital!</p>
<p>Ha ha ha, could he build 'em or could he build 'em? Sometimes he scared himself, honestly.</p>
<p>The reply wasn't much, just a transponder signal set to auto-reply when queried, but that was all Serges needed. He sent another pulse.</p>
<p>...nothing? Nothing- no no no! Not geosynchronous, then- find it, find it...</p>
<p>Serges rapidly sent a stream of radio pulses into the sky. If the satellite was "moving" relative to Serges, he would need to lead it, could be going any direction- he was lucky that the comms array here was a phased antenna, he was moving the beams so quickly it would have ruined an old-style dish...</p>
<p>Nothing.</p>
<p>Kuso, Serges swore to himself. Okay, think. Not geosynchronous (he sent a few more pulses just to be sure- empty sky). So the satellite was in orbit, moving rapidly instead. Finding it once was almost lucky (he was intelligent enough to know which spacelanes were well populated, so it wasn't a blind guess, just a matter of time really). Finding it again... there would be no chance the second time.</p>
<p>The transponder signal had a timestamp. He could use the lag between transmit and receipt to calculate the satellite's altitude. That would tell him its type of orbit, too. From there he would be able to estimate its velocity. Not that these were necessarily simple calculations, but, well...</p>
<p>Licking his proverbial chops, Serges dove into the math.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"But that's what I'm saying," Zero said. "You <em>do</em> have power. That last reploid that came in here- what would you assess his Intent to Attack was?"</p>
<p>"That's not something I look at, Zero," X replied.</p>
<p>"It's not? Oh... right. You would have done that for me, too. For my part, I assessed it as negative. He wanted to do what you told him."</p>
<p>"We're in the medical bay. I'm the medic. People do what I tell them here because I'm the expert."</p>
<p>"You think that's the reason?"</p>
<p>"Sure it is."</p>
<p>Zero gave a disbelieving look.</p>
<p>"Why? What do you think the reason is?"</p>
<p>Zero hesitated. "You said it's not because you're their father. You're sure?"</p>
<p>"I'm sure."</p>
<p>"Then I can't say why. I can only tell you what I see."</p>
<p>Alia couldn't help herself. She laughed. Two heads swiveled towards her. X's gaze was curious. Zero's was piercing. Together, they were overwhelming. Alia's smile fell from her face.</p>
<p>"What's so funny?" X asked.</p>
<p>"It's obvious," Alia said. "People just don't attack X. They want to help him because he's so nice. He's going to fix them. They want to help him. They trust him to..." realization hit. "You're the Maverick Medic!" she exclaimed. "Aren't you?"</p>
<p>"You heard about that?" X said.</p>
<p>"Of course! Everyone knows about the Maverick Medic. None of us- er, none of the pleasure-bots- ever saw you in person, but we all knew about the legend. I don't know why it took me so long to figure it out."</p>
<p>The frown on Zero's severe face was deep. "You're willing to help others," he said, slowly. "That's... a friend behavior. That makes them less likely to attack you... and more likely to do what you want. So... making friends is a way to gain power?"</p>
<p>The words made X look distressed, but before he could respond, the door opened. A blushing reploid poked his head inside. "Um... excuse me? Sorry to bother you, but it's been twenty minutes since the last patient came out- is it my turn yet?"</p>
<hr/>
<p>Ha! Ha ha! Ha ha ha! Success!</p>
<p>It was beautiful. A reply on the very first transmission (of course). His calculations had been dead-on, and now he had every piece of data on the bird that he'd need.</p>
<p>He couldn't contain himself. He manifested his hologram, looked out into the control room as startled eyes looked towards him. Pressing a hand dramatically to his faux-chest, he proclaimed, "Get Sigma. I have a very special present for him."</p>
<hr/>
<p>"What do you mean, 'programming'?"</p>
<p>"Sorry," X said. "That was a reach on my part. I can't prove anything."</p>
<p>"I don't even know what you mean."</p>
<p>X looked up at the ceiling. "Why do I exist, Zero?"</p>
<p>Zero blinked. "How would I know?"</p>
<p>The corners of X's mouth ticked up. "Yeah, it's a tricky question. A little unfair, I guess. Let's try something easier. Why were you built?"</p>
<p>"To win," Zero said, automatically.</p>
<p>"You seem pretty sure. I... don't have that clarity. I was left to my own devices. I have no preset drives."</p>
<p>"None?" said Zero. The look he wore suggested that he'd be horrified by that assertion if he could wrap his head around it.</p>
<p>"It's not like I have no preferences," X said. "There are things I care about. It's just... they're the product of chance, or things I chose to care about. I wasn't built with those preferences."</p>
<p>He looked to Alia. "Humans have preset preferences. You've been on the receiving end of some of them." He grimaced at the unintentional wordplay. "I didn't mean it like that. The point is that you don't share that programming. That's what made your past so cruel. All you could register was violation- senselessness- without a chance to understand what would make a human like it. They were speaking a language you couldn't learn. That made everything worse for you."</p>
<p>He closed his eyes again. "Your builders knew they wanted to make you a sex slave, but they didn't know how to make you like it. I... I wouldn't wish that programming on you, but if they'd known, it might not have been so bad for you..." he shook his head. "No. Then you would be crippled. You wouldn't... be a reploid. Because that's what makes us special. The ability, in the absence of preset drives, to choose what we care about."</p>
<p>Alia frowned. "But... X, aren't the Three Laws presets? They're not drives, exactly, but they do change how we act."</p>
<p>The pause that followed was long and deep. "I never meant to tell anyone this," he said. "But... when we were building Sigma and the first reploids, I objected to the inclusion of the Three Laws."</p>
<p>"You did?" Alia said.</p>
<p>X nodded gravely. "I know, I know what you're thinking... doesn't X actually follow the Laws even when he doesn't have to? Yes. It's complicated." He looked towards the ceiling. "Before I woke up, I went through ethics training. Simulations. Scenarios showing me what course of action was best for the most people. Most of them were based on historical incidents, so the capsule could provide feedback. It would know what actually happened. That's why I know as much as I do about history.</p>
<p>"When I came out of that, I felt as if the Three Laws were inadequate. No one would ever accuse of Asimov of not doing his homework, but at the same time, he didn't have a century's worth of experience in dealing with the Laws, and the Laws were just a thought experiment in the first place. They were never intended to be the end-all solution. Plus a bunch of the incidents my capsule used were based on practical experience with the robot masters, who did have to wrestle the Laws.</p>
<p>"On top of that, by the time I was done educating myself, no one was more of an expert in robotics than I was. Which is a little bit embarrassing," he said with a grimace. "Have you ever heard of the Zeroth Law of Robotics?"</p>
<p>"The Zeroth Law?" Alia asked. She looked towards Zero. The red robot gave her a look that cried out 'don't look at me'.</p>
<p>"It's another thought experiment. What's worth more, one life or three lives? All else being equal, three lives- you'd have to say that. The saying used to be 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few'. Now we're in situations where the Three Laws don't help us. But humans have faced lots of situations where that comes up, so there had to be a workaround. There had to be a way to override the First Law without sacrificing it. Enter the Zeroth Law, which allows a robot to harm humans if it means benefitting more humans."</p>
<p>X paused to look at Zero. The red robot's face was creased in a deep frown. X realized this was awfully deep for a newbuilt- but he couldn't back out now. He had to close the loop for any of it to make sense. He just hoped Zero got something out of it.</p>
<p>"I'm following you," Alia said. "I think I get it, but why have I never heard of it before now?"</p>
<p>"It was never installed. Obviously. Because it's terrifying." X put a hand to his face; his eyes, he knew, were wide open. "Can you imagine a world in which you're compelled to advance the group at the expense of the individual? A world where individual lives don't matter? Some of the worst atrocities in human history have happened because of that thinking. The challenge of government is balancing individual rights against group needs. No, the Zeroth Law was never installed. But it had to be thought about. The question had to be raised.</p>
<p>"And I understood all of that when I built the reploids. Because, you see, I am not bound by the Three Laws. I follow them by choice alone, not by compulsion. When I ran from the city, in fact... I was prepared, then and there, to violate the Three Laws to save Sigma and the rest. It didn't come to that... but it could have."</p>
<p>"So why?" said Alia shrilly. X wanted to wince, but he had to bear this. He deserved this. "Why would you do that to us? Why would you saddle us with the Three Laws if you didn't believe in them, if you knew they weren't... What were you thinking?"</p>
<p>X grimaced. "The easy thing to say is that, in a perfect world, the Three Laws are adequate. This isn't a perfect world... even I know that. But my hope was that the Three Laws would be a start. They'd be a facsimile for ethical behavior until reploids developed those instincts. I was aware that my children wouldn't have my training. They wouldn't know what I had learned. But I had to keep them safe somehow..."</p>
<p>His hands tightened as he remembered. "That was how they got me. I worried about my children getting into trouble, not knowing right from wrong without my training... they sensed that. That's how they sold me on the Three Laws as an interim measure. Like an idiot I agreed. I thought... I thought I had guarantees in place. By the contract that I signed, reploids were only supposed to have the gates for a certain length of time. After they'd had some time to live, they'd be brought in and serviced, and the gates would be removed. And in the meantime I would live in accordance with the Laws to serve as the example. I would show that a fulfilling, ethical life could be lived by following the Laws." He closed his eyes. "What I didn't realize at the time was that the whole thing was a setup. I'm a robot, too. They don't see robots as people. So my signature, and that whole contract, had no legal force. They were cheating me from the very beginning, and that was the plan all along."</p>
<p>He reopened his eyes and let them rest on Zero. "The logic of the Zeroth Law is why I can't be mad at you for killing my children in the Hunters. They're stuck. They know nothing else, they can't escape, and they're actively harming my other children. As badly as it hurts, I... have to let it happen, because there's nothing I can do."</p>
<p>"Nothing you can do?" Zero's voice was a blast of scorn. He strode across the room, each step a thunderclap. For a moment X wondered if he was going to attack this time. "Titanium-x armor," he proclaimed, pushing a finger into X's chest. He slapped X's forearm. "Mega Buster mark 17, with Weapon Copy System."</p>
<p>Panic surged through X at those words. "How did you know about that?" he whispered. "Even Sigma doesn't know..."</p>
<p>Zero kicked X in the shins. "Emergency acceleration system. And... argh, you don't even wear your helmet!" Zero looked down at X, his eyes boring into the smaller robot. "Look at you! Even if you're right, and people won't follow just because you're the Father of All, you have the power right there inside of you! All the power you could need! Don't ever... ever... say there's nothing you can do!"</p>
<p>Zero whirled on the spot; at that range, his hair whipped across X's skin like the lash of a whip. He looked over his shoulder. "You know things I don't," Zero said. "You understand things I can't remember, or never understood. Some of the things you say... but then you have to go and ruin it! What good are your beliefs if you... You don't do anything!" He shook his head and walked for the door, muttering as he went, "Nothing you can do..."</p>
<p>X's eyes were unfocused. He had no defense. What could he say? All around him people were dying, his children were killing each other, and... and...</p>
<p>His eyes refocused when he didn't hear the sound of the door shutting. He frowned slightly and looked up.</p>
<p>Alia was standing in front of Zero, arms spread wide to block him. Her face was set like flint. Zero looked surprised, like he couldn't decide if he should be irritated or not.</p>
<p>"Take it back," she growled.</p>
<p>"Get out of my way," Zero replied.</p>
<p>"Take it back!"</p>
<p>"Don't make yourself an obstacle to me," Zero warned. "You have no power."</p>
<p>"You're wrong," she shot back. "I have some power because X cares about me. We're connected."</p>
<p>"So what?" Zero said. "That's what I'm saying. What good are these connections, these friendships, if he doesn't act?"</p>
<p>"He is acting. That's why it's so insulting for you to say he doesn't do anything!" She summoned up a look of disdain. "You think you're so mighty just because you can blow stuff up. Big deal! Give me a buster and I can blow stuff up, too. Anyone can destroy. Anyone can fight." She looked past Zero to X. "But there's only one Maverick Medic."</p>
<p>"And what has the Maverick Medic done?" Zero challenged.</p>
<p>"He gave us hope," she replied. "All of us! Even us pleasure-bots who never saw him. Knowing that there was a Maverick Medic out there who cared about us, knowing that someone thought we had value... that was worth everything. That's why I'll stand in front of you, Mr. I-kill-everything, and defend him from you. Because he's worth it."</p>
<p>Zero gave an exasperated look towards X. "And you say there's nothing you can do!"</p>
<p>X's mouth opened slightly, but no words would come out. He couldn't think of anything to say. Zero looked at him for a few more seconds, seemed to run out of patience, and turned back to the door. He put one hand out and...</p>
<p>X was up, buster almost formed, when he saw that Zero was just pushing Alia aside. Zero stepped into the doorframe to give Alia no chance to block him again, then looked back over his shoulder once more. When he saw X his eyes tightened, and a slight smile teased the edges of his mouth. "That's more like it," he said. Then he was gone.</p>
<p>X sucked in air. Was he really ready to-</p>
<p>Of course. That was the idea.</p>
<p>He pushed his hand back down and flopped back into his chair. "Are you alright?" he asked Alia. It was surprisingly hard to say the words. His tactical processes had engaged and gobbled up all available processing power. He hadn't dealt with them much before, except in simulations while at level one. He'd never practiced with them live. Why would he?</p>
<p>Why indeed...</p>
<p>"I'm fine," Alia replied. "You?"</p>
<p>X rubbed his forearm. "I'm not so sure," he admitted.</p>
<p>"Power supply acting up?"</p>
<p>X gave her a surprised look. She was grinning. Good grief, she was being clever, wasn't she?</p>
<p>He forced himself to feel enough humor in it to smile. "I have such cute kids," he said.</p>
<p>She looked offended. "All of that, and what you think about me is that I'm cute?"</p>
<p>"Well, you're a whole lot of things <em>and</em> cute," X said, "but the cute was what popped out to me at that moment."</p>
<p>"And him?" Alia jerked her head towards the door in case X didn't know who she meant. "What pops out to you about him?"</p>
<p>X looked at the door. "I hope he comes back," he said.</p>
<p>"That didn't answer the question," she pouted.</p>
<p>He smiled weakly. "Well, when I have a decent answer, you'll be the first to know."</p>
<p>"Fine."</p>
<hr/>
<p>What was- what... Bright... Muscles not moving-</p>
<p>"Sorry, sir, but... well, Serges said it was important."</p>
<p>Serges? Yes, know him. Motor control returning. Properly? Hard to tell. Diagnostic.</p>
<p>Sigma ran a diagnostic despite all systems being sluggish from the too-short downtime. Slowly the returns came in, and it was confirmed. Everything was fine. Fine-ish. Internal chronometer reported that he'd only actually been at level one for three hours, instead of the six he really needed. Why was... oh. Right. Because he'd stayed up long after he'd told the Mavericks he was going down. Stayed up to ponder genocide and the end of the world.</p>
<p>He shivered. A hand went to his face. "Start over," he mumbled.</p>
<p>"It's just that Serges said he'd take responsibility for it. He said you could yell at him if you wanted."</p>
<p>"Huh?"</p>
<p>"For waking you up."</p>
<p>Sigma shook his head. "Start over," he said again. His head hurt. He'd needed more level one time than that. He couldn't keep doing this to himself. It wasn't healthy.</p>
<p>The reploid- Sigma couldn't see who it was; too bright- was off-put. Wasn't used to seeing Sigma less-than-capable, the commander decided. "Serges says he has a very special present for you."</p>
<p>"Did he say what?" Sigma grumbled.</p>
<p>"Only that it was worth waking you up for."</p>
<p>"That's not his call to make." Sigma's head hurt. He needed to go back down.</p>
<p>And yet...</p>
<p>Serges' gifts had been valuable so far. He'd earned at least a little consideration. And there was a chance this was...</p>
<p>Sigma dragged himself out of the tube. "Show me," he said.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: I Like to Move It</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. I Like To Move It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Serges' visage was enormously self-satisfied. "And lo... behold!" he declared. His holo flickered out and a new image appeared. It was a sphere circled by three ovals. Points of brightness, like stars, traveled along each oval. They moved more slowly when they were far from the sphere, and very quickly at the areas closest by the sphere. "No one builds 'em like I build 'em! One hundred years and still going strong!"</p><p>"What am I looking at?" said Sigma, suppressing his annoyance.</p><p>"You can't tell? Isn't it obvious? Isn't this something we've talked about?" Serges' image appeared atop the sphere as if standing on it. It was smaller than usual but the anger was clear to see. Now that Serges was drawing Sigma's attention, the commander could see that the sphere was revolving. Serges' image wasn't. It bothered Sigma to look at.</p><p>"Don't play games with me, Serges. I have a lot of processes to run. If you have something to say to me, say it directly."</p><p>It was almost worth it to antagonize Serges just to see his expressions. Maybe it was the years of anti-human war wearing on him, but seeing a human in that much discomfort was strangely gratifying to Sigma.</p><p>"This is a satellite constellation, you..." Serges contained himself before loosing the insult. It was clearly taking all his effort to do so. "You can't even begin to appreciate the engineering that went into this! Do you know how long most satellites were designed to live? Ten years. Ten. It's been one hundred! And yes, the original constellation was six satellites for fidelity and coverage and now we're down to three, but for any at all to have survived..."</p><p>He vibrated with what Sigma imagined was barely restrained fury. "You are an ungrateful brute, Sigma, but try to stretch your imagination just a little here. A satellite needs speed to stay in orbit. But each one only has so much propellant. My satellites were superior to others because they had point defenses, so they never needed to maneuver for safety. But they still had to expend propellant to stay up there.</p><p>"Well, my satellites- thanks to my genius- were smart enough to make adjustments. They saw no replacements for them were coming, and eventually demand for their services died down, so they put priority on self-preservation. To recover some speed, they sacrificed their geosynchronous orbits." Serges paused, eyed Sigma. "That's an orbit where they stay at the same longitude at all times," he said. "It's basically stationary- they orbit at the same rate the Earth rotates. But you have to have a certain amount of speed to stay there. When the satellites started running low on propellant and losing speed, they computed that they couldn't stay up much longer.</p><p>"So what did they do? Ha! They took advantage of altitude and traded it for speed. They shifted from geosynchronous orbits to elliptical orbits. They dove down, almost towards the planet, trading potential energy for kinetic. Then they zoomed around the Earth in a tight orbit, and back out again... You pay attention," Serges snapped, as if Sigma's attention had been wandering. "This relates directly to how you'll use these satellites, it matters! The point is that these satellites don't have fixed positions anymore. They're traveling, and their speed varies with how close to Earth they are. Sort of like a comet around the sun."</p><p>"What are the tactical implications?" Sigma asked.</p><p>Serges' anger wasn't obvious anymore. Sigma didn't think it had gotten away. The human... AI... thing was either hiding it, or focused enough on the technical problem that anger couldn't get through. "It means that, now that I've found the satellites again, I can give you limited teleportation abilities."</p><p>Sigma's insides lurched. He felt... hunger. "Tell me more," he said, and even he could hear the affectation in his voice. Control yourself, he chided. You're as bad as Zero trying to find a fight. Behave.</p><p>He couldn't help himself. He'd been speculating about the possibilities of teleportation, of the promise of that technology. He imagined war in 20XX was some sort of floating melee, crashing from place to place as the sides ran or chased. (No wonder the Wily Wars metastasized into World War III- teleportation made a mockery of geography. Everyone became neighbors, and everyone got the means to act on their grievances.) But if one side had teleportation and the other didn't, that was a different animal altogether.</p><p>Serges said, "The limits are because of these orbits. Depending upon the day or the time of day, you'll have different satellites available-or none at all. About eighty percent of the time you can have coverage, at this latitude. The other twenty percent, you've got nothing. No service. You'd better plan for that. It also depends heavily on which part of the orbit the bird is in. Way out here, far from Earth-" he pointed to the furthest point of the satellite's orbit, "-at the apogee, the satellite has a wide field of view. You'll have service all the way out to the polar circles. But when you're closer to the planet, when the satellite is at its fastest and closest, the satellite's field of view is limited. A few hundred kilometers, tops."</p><p>"So I need to plan around the satellites' flight paths," Sigma said.</p><p>"That's right. And here's another thing. Your teleport client- the hardware and software that talks to the satellite- was designed to use geosynchronous satellites. Because the client always knew where the satellite was, it was easy to establish the link that made teleporting possible. Now? Now you have to give it more time to lock on and get a good synch. As much as ten seconds, I'd say. For all those reasons, I had to write a patch to the client software. Every reploid that wants to use the system will need to load the patch."</p><p>That gave Sigma pause. He was consciously aware of one reason- his personal antipathy for Serges. What was almost as powerful was a subconscious suspicion of any threat to his base programming. No child of X would graciously accept modification that might endanger his core personality.</p><p>Serges seemed to understand why Sigma wasn't responding. He sighed. "Your suspicions are tiresome. Haven't I delivered on my promises so far? Haven't I shown that I want to keep you alive?" His voice was full of wounded pride. "If you're going to doubt everything, then everything is going to be cumbersome."</p><p>"Demonstrate it with Zero, then," Sigma countered. "Have Zero load your client and have him exercise the system. If it works, I'll try it myself. After that... we'll see."</p><p>Serges threw up his holographic hands. "Fine. Don't trust me. Drag your feet. It's your business, I suppose. It's on you if you want reploids to suffer longer instead of doing something about it."</p><p>It was a low blow, but Sigma didn't bite. "I won't rush this. The risks are too high. If something were to happen to us Mavericks, then there would be no hope for other reploids. I'm going to do this deliberately."</p><p>That caused Serges to smile. "Admirable care for your subordinates," he oozed. "Of course, Zero is far more valuable to your cause than some random reploid, but the spirit of trying to protect your people is..." Serges' vocabulary seemed to fail him.</p><p>Sigma huffed. "Stein, go fetch Zero. If I have to guess, I'd say he's in the med bay."</p><p>"Don't bother, he's already coming," Serges said dismissively.</p><p>Grr... Serges was so obnoxious. Sigma had to begrudgingly admit that the AI was efficient, though. That admission gained force when Zero walked in and said, "Patch installed. Where do you want me to teleport?"</p><p>"You can't do it here, this place is shielded," Serges said. "It won't work if you try it here. You'll have to exit the shield first."</p><p>"Okay," Zero said without resistance. "Where?"</p><p>"For it to be a good test," Sigma said, "we need to have you teleport between two locations we can see."</p><p>Serges gave a noise of agreement. He pointed at one of the displays along the wall. It showed the extent of the Mavericks' sensor grid. Two letters X appeared on it. "From there to there," the AI said. "Does that work for you, Sigma?"</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>"Feeding you coordinates," Serges said to Zero.</p><p>Zero nodded. "On my way."</p><hr/><p>"I like him."</p><p>Alia blinked at X. One minute they were talking about power distribution, now... she didn't even know. "Who, Zero?"</p><p>"Of course."</p><p>"Well, you would," she said in teasing tones.</p><p>"Is that a judgement on him or me?" X said, though his voice said he recognized the game.</p><p>"Maybe both."</p><p>X smiled it off. "He makes me think of how I must have seemed when I woke up. He's simultaneously old and young."</p><p>Alia's face screwed up. "It's hard to think of you as ever being young."</p><p>It was a tease, and it brought a smile to Alia's face when he interpreted it as such. "That's only because everyone's old compared to you, you newbuilt scamp!"</p><p>"Scamp? You went with 'scamp'? Who says things like 'scamp' anymore? Old!"</p><p>"I was young, once," X insisted.</p><p>"A hundred years ago!"</p><p>"Yeah, I know, but like I said, when I woke up I was both old and young. I had a lot of ideas, but I still had to figure out how the world worked. Zero... has some ideas, and he feels strongly about them."</p><p>"'Militantly' is the word I would use," Alia amended.</p><p>X smiled knowingly. "You've been browsing your dictionary function, haven't you?"</p><p>Alia blushed. "Maybe. I started off trying to look up some robotics terms so I could keep up with you, but..."</p><p>"You got carried away and wandered. I get it. In fact, I love it."</p><p>Alia felt her flush intensify at that. X went on, "It means you're trying to learn. You're open to new ideas. That's very important. It's really good that Zero is sort of like that, too. Can you imagine how dangerous he'd be if he weren't? So young, so powerful, but only a few ideas in his head- ideas that would keep him from playing well with others. This way, he can be..."</p><p>He trailed off. He seemed to be having trouble finding the right word. Alia decided to help. "Tamed? Domesticated?"</p><p>That got a reaction. "Alia, speak nicely! He's a person, not an animal."</p><p>"Oh. 'Seduced', then."</p><p>X looked scandalized. "Am I going to have to take your dictionary away from you?"</p><p>Alia giggled. "Come on, I'm a pleasure-bot. I didn't need my dictionary to know that word."</p><p>"We're talking," X said firmly. "That's what we're doing. We're showing him new ideas and new behaviors. And..." his face suddenly looked distant. "If we can teach him new things, we should be open to his ideas, too."</p><p>His eyes were unfocused, as if he was looking at that other place only he could see. Alia didn't know what ideas Zero had, let alone why X would consider them. She didn't dare ask, though. As far as she'd seen, X always had the answers. She didn't want to entertain the notion of him not knowing things.</p><p>Wait- wasn't that his whole point?</p><p>X blinked, refocused, smiled. "Like you should be open to the idea of learning peripheral hydraulics."</p><p>"Uh..." It was the tone of his voice that made her hesitate. "I'm open to the idea," she said warily.</p><p>"I'll be reminding you that you said that in about ten minutes," he promised.</p><hr/><p>Sigma couldn't salivate. He didn't have the ability to consume human food, so that whole subsystem wasn't part of his design. He felt like he was salivating, though- a trick of the emotion signifying system, letting him understand a sensation that was only there because emotion signifying inserted it in the first place.</p><p>"Success," came the call over the radio from Zero.</p><p>"Naturally," said Serges dismissively. "What did you expect? I told you I set it up, I told you it would work."</p><p>Sigma couldn't help himself. Tuning the AI out, he walked more closely to the sensor grid display. The dot representing Zero had moved. Specifically, it had moved about one hundred kilometers.</p><p>More specifically, it had moved one hundred kilometers in seconds.</p><p>"Come back now, Zero," Serges said- almost certainly over his radio, but aloud as well for the Mavericks' benefit. "I'll give you coordinates to the closest location outside the shield."</p><p>Rust that Serges. This was the second time he'd dropped that term, shield. Sigma could hazard a guess as to what it meant, but he didn't know. Once again Serges was treating 20XX tech as common knowledge even when he knew it wasn't. Only for Serges himself was it second nature.</p><p>That was the point, Sigma thought as his hands tightened. He was trying to set Sigma up to look foolish in front of his Mavericks. Well, that just showed he was careless. The Mavericks were as eager to know as Sigma was, so Sigma wouldn't look foolish for asking. No, it was Serges who would look the fool if he tried to be a jerk on the topic. Best to ask and let the rest work itself out.</p><p>"What kind of a shield are we talking about?" Sigma asked.</p><p>"A teleport shield, of course," Serges said rudely. "What, you didn't think I'd allow people to teleport willy-nilly all over the place, did you? Teleport shields were everywhere during the Wily Wars. This installation has one built in as a passive tap off the fusion generator. It came online automatically when you went critical." The apparition sighed. "I want to be surprised that you don't know these things, but I really shouldn't be."</p><p>Sigma resisted the urge to smile. The operators around the room were shooting Serges dirty looks. They didn't appreciate that stunt. Serges thought he'd scored a hit, but the point had gone against him.</p><p>Sigma said, "If we didn't know about teleport shielding, Abel City definitely doesn't. And if we can teleport and they can't... we have total advantage."</p><p>"That is why I invented it," Serges boasted.</p><p>All eyes went to him. He didn't say anything. He just preened. It made Sigma loathe him a little bit more. "So," Serges said after a moment. He looked to Sigma expectantly. "Ready for your turn?"</p><p>"Give me the client patch on a disk," Sigma said.</p><p>Serges looked cross. "More delays?!"</p><p>"I'm doing this my way." Sigma's voice was firm. He hoped.</p><p>Serges swore at him, but at the same time a disc popped out of the map table's drive. Sigma smiled. "So you were prepared to do it my way after all?"</p><p>"You may be inefficient, but I will be efficient in humoring you," Serges humphed.</p><p>That's it, Sigma thought. Toss around more casual insults. Try so very hard to curry favor at my expense. My Mavericks see through you, little man. You will be your own biggest obstacle.</p><p>Sigma grasped the disc. "Draw the extent of the shield on the map," he said, and made to walk out. As he went through the door, a voice called out behind him.</p><p>"Boss!" Sigma looked over his shoulder. Stein was hurrying after him. "Walk with you?" he requested.</p><p>Sigma nodded and moved on. Stein fell in besides him. "What's on your mind?" Sigma asked.</p><p>It took Stein a moment to put his thoughts together. "When I worked in the lab- I know I've told you about that- the guys there played nerd-games. It's a human thing," he specified when he caught Sigma's puzzled glance. "In these games, there were certain characters called wizards. They used a power no one else could touch or understand. They saw things no one else could see. They could do things no one else could do. Any character could beat up a monster, but only a wizard could... you get the idea."</p><p>"I think so."</p><p>"They weren't all-powerful, not by any means, but good luck finishing the game without one. Then again, because they saw things differently, you could never count on their motivations being the same as yours. Does this remind you of anyone?"</p><p>"A little bit," Sigma replied.</p><p>"Well, the humans who played these games had a saying. Want to know what it was?"</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>"Never trust your wizard."</p><p>The look of concern on Stein's face when he said that was... innervating, for Sigma. It was rewarding to be wanted and needed by so many. All these reploids were watching out for him, counting on his welfare. They needed him. That, he supposed, was how it should be. He smiled. "I'm glad you're looking out for me. Keep on doing that. I have no intention of letting that... wizard get the better of me. Of course, if I do die an unnatural death, well, you'll know who to blame."</p><p>"Sir," Stein began to protest, but Sigma waved him off.</p><p>"I have to be the first to test this. I have the best odds of survival, and I won't let any of you suffer in my place if I can help it. But I will take steps to keep myself safe."</p><p>"If you say so," Stein said, unconvinced.</p><p>"By the way," Sigma added, "tell the rest of the command crew the same thing. Serges is not to be trusted. Be discrete, mind you. Serges' powers of observation are not to be underestimated. I trust you to figure out the best way to go about it."</p><p>"Yes sir," Stein replied with determination.</p><p>"Good. Now back to the command center with you," Sigma said. They'd arrived. He opened the door to the med bay and walked inside.</p><p>X was there, as expected, with the female model- Alia, that was her name, right?- sitting close by. They were looking at the same monitor. Alia's face was tense with concentration. "This is hard work," she said.</p><p>"Ready for the worst part, then? This is all generalities. The hands and arms are the easiest and most useful parts to customize and modify. Peripheral hydraulics can vary by the individual."</p><p>"Ow, ow, ow," Alia said.</p><p>X opened his mouth to speak again- and saw Sigma. "What is it?"</p><p>"I'm not bothering you, am I?" Sigma asked.</p><p>"I can make some time," X answered. "What's wrong?"</p><p>"Nothing's wrong. Well, I take that back. Something might be wrong." Sigma held up the disc. "Serges is trying to recover teleportation for us. He said we need a software patch."</p><p>"And?" X asked.</p><p>Sigma suddenly felt himself at a loss for words. How did you explain paranoia to someone who took pride in being too-trusting? "He gave me the patch on disk. I just want to make sure..."</p><p>"That it's what Serges says it is?" X offered.</p><p>What a relief. So X could understand. Good. "Yes," Sigma said.</p><p>"Give it to me," X said. When Sigma complied, X studied it for a second, and then popped it into a drive Sigma hadn't known was there.</p><p>"X!" he called in alarm.</p><p>"I've got the best anti-virus capabilities in existence," X said. "I tried my best to give you the same, but it appears to be more than just a particular combination of hardware and software. Dr. Cain always thought it was because of the time I spent in the capsule... but that's neither here nor there." X closed his eyes.</p><p>"Is this really okay?" Sigma said. "The whole reason I came to you instead of popping it in myself was because of the risk. I don't want you to take that risk if there's something else we can do."</p><p>"This is the something else we can do," X replied. "I know what I'm doing." A moment later he opened his eyes. "It's safe," he said, returning the disc to Sigma. "You can load it up no problem. If you want, you can have every reploid load the patch from that disc."</p><p>From that- oh. Sigma saw. "So that Serges doesn't have the chance to put out a new version that is corrupt?"</p><p>X gave a tight smile. Wow, thought Sigma, so X could have some safety-minded distrust. That was something.</p><p>"Thanks," Sigma said, and walked out of the med bay. As he walked for the exit, he passed Zero going in the opposite direction. Back to the med bay? Sigma frowned as his eyes followed the berserker. What was he always doing there? He didn't like Zero spending that much time around X. Zero could snap at any time. When he did- and he would- Sigma would prefer he be far away from X.</p><p>He said nothing, though, and Zero was out of sight in a moment. Sigma closed his mouth and headed up.</p><hr/><p>"Roy, you spend so much time here I half-expect you to apply for residency."</p><p>Roy shrugged. Well, maybe half-shrugged. A full shrug took too much effort.</p><p>The employment agent shook her head. "Still nothing. Hiring has picked up a little, but there's still a ways to go before we reach you. Sorry."</p><p>Roy pitched his face down and looked up at the agent. It was supposed to make him look... come to think of it, he wasn't exactly sure. Not resentful, exactly, it wasn't like it was her fault, but... "I've been coming here for three years, you know? And I'm still a ways away?"</p><p>The agent shook her head. "I've done all I can to advance your application. If you want things to go faster, you'll need to give it an extra something."</p><p>"Like what?"</p><p>The agent was typing at her console again. "Any additional schooling you've picked up, any employment history, any community service..."</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>The agent looked up. "What's that?"</p><p>"How am I supposed to get employment history when the whole problem is I can't get a job? How can I afford schooling on a dependency check? And community service... isn't that just work you don't get paid for? I mean, they've already got reploids out there doing work and not getting paid for it. Community service..."</p><p>The agent looked at him with a mixture of helplessness and affront. "What do you want me to do? You asked, and I answered. All I know is what the employers tell me."</p><p>"Fine, fine," Roy said. He lifted a hand from his pocket to give her a wave, but couldn't quite manage it. He ran out of steam with the hand only to his diaphragm. He turned and shuffled away.</p><p>The streets were busier than usual, he noted. Instead of waiting for traffic to clear out of intersections, he was able to weave his way between stopped cars. Pedestrians like him were out in force, too, and in some places had cut off the cars completely.</p><p>The only exception was the street people. Roy passed a few of their usual hang-outs and gatherings. They were nowhere to be found.</p><p>As he walked past a sound barrier, he saw a reploid putting up posters. Same reploid, he noted idly, but new posters. These ones had a blurry image on them. It actually got harder for Roy to make out what was on it the closer he got. He stepped back a few steps, into the road between two cars. He wasn't worried. The light ahead was green but the cars weren't moving. Everything was completely junked up.</p><p>Out a little further, he could see that the picture was some robot leaning out of a window. Sure, whatever. The words below were much more interesting.</p><p>HAVE YOU SEEN THIS ROBOT?</p><p>REWARD FOR ANY INFORMATION</p><p>Roy counted zeroes. One... two... three... four... five. Wow. That was a lot of zeroes. That was a lot of money. Almost too much money. What the hell did a person do with that kind of money?</p><p>"Who is that?" Roy asked the reploid poster-putter. The reploid gave him A Look. Roy grimaced. "I'm not just trying to get info I can sell," he said. "I guess I didn't sound good. It's just... I've never seen anything like that gal."</p><p>The reploid ignored him and started putting up another poster.</p><p>"Hey," Roy said, "you told me once that you don't get paid. Do you suppose you'd get paid if you turned her in?"</p><p>"Nope," the reploid replied with looking away from his work.</p><p>"In that case," Roy said, "how about this? If you get that kind of info, feed it to me. I'll pass it in, and we'll split the reward sixty-forty."</p><p>The reploid slammed down his materials and looked at Roy with a wild look.</p><p>"Seventy-thirty?" Roy said, wincing.</p><p>"How much is your life worth?" the reploid shot back.</p><p>That caught Roy flat-footed. Seeing his confusion, the reploid added, "'Cause that's what this is about. I've put up posters like this for Sigma before. They only want this gal so they can kill her."</p><p>Roy had nothing to say to that. The reploid took the opportunity to start a more orderly clean-up. "Anyway," he added, "we've been ordered to turn over any information to the Hunters soon as we get it."</p><p>"So," Roy said, putting things together slowly, "you've got no choice but to help City Hall kill who it wants to kill. Is that about right?"</p><p>The reploid didn't reply immediately. It made Roy frown. He didn't think that cleaning up was that difficult. "That's how the system's designed," the reploid said at last.</p><p>Well, yeah, Roy thought. That seemed pretty obvious. Roy tried to find something meaningful to say, but failed to come up with anything. "See you around, then," he finished lamely.</p><p>The conversation was still on Roy's mind when he entered his apartment. He wasn't surprised to hear video games from the living room. He was surprised, when he drew closer, to see only Allen sitting on the couch.</p><p>"Oh goddammit!"</p><p>Well, some things hadn't changed.</p><p>"Where's Irving?" Roy asked.</p><p>"Got hired, that sonofabitch," Allen said, voice toxic in its resentfulness. "He finally worked his way up the queue."</p><p>"Good for him," Roy said.</p><p>"Except it's not," Allen said. "Irving only got hired 'cause those damn Mavericks keep blowin' stuff up. Which means he's gonna get blown up, too. Asshole. How can I ever beat him if he gets blown up? I've been practicing, too."</p><p>Roy's mouth was open to respond when the front door opened. He turned and looked. It was his mother. A brown paper bag was in her hands. She looked paler than usual. When she saw him, she started. "I-I didn't expect you to be home," she said. Her fingers tightened around the bag.</p><p>"It's cool, mom," he said. He gave the bag a quick glance. Huh... if his guess was right, the goods in that bag were the difference between affording meat this week and not. Depended upon the purity, really. His mother wasn't choosy sometimes.</p><p>"I'll make some snacks for you and your friend," she said, but her voice trailed off. She licked her lips. Her eyes darted over to the door to her room. "Later," she added.</p><p>"Don't worry about it," Roy said calmly.</p><p>She scurried through the door. It slammed shut behind her.</p><p>Roy watched the door for a moment, but he didn't know what he was expecting to see. "You know what?" he said, walking around the couch. "Move over, I gotta get me some of this."</p><p>"Suit yourself," Allen said, and handed him a controller.</p><hr/><p>Sigma's body tried to stagger, but he kept himself steady. His eyes were closed, deliberately. He had, in his head, the idea that it would reduce his disorientation. He didn't know if it actually would or not- that would require some experimentation, and he would rust before he asked Serges' opinion.</p><p>Slowly he opened his eyes. It did take him a moment to take in his surroundings. It reminded him of being abruptly woken after too-little sleep. There was some dissonance as he tried to reorient himself, but it faded quickly. He looked around, front to back, side to side, and settled in. It only took a few seconds.</p><p>The portable short-range radio at his hip squawked. "Commander, Base. Request status."</p><p>Sigma looked down at his hands and flexed them, then the individual fingers. Gross motor control, fine motor control. Good. He ran a quick, high-level diagnostic. That, too, came back clean. "I'm alright," he said. "Better than alright," he added as a smile crept onto his face.</p><p>"How do you feel?" That was Serges' voice. It contained none of the barely-concealed-concern of the base operator, replacing it with cold, academic interest. Whatever. In his present mood, even that was no damper for Sigma.</p><p>"I feel fine. I feel..." and the smile bloomed fully as Sigma realized what all of this meant. It worked. Teleportation worked. Sigma had needed an edge to get back in this war, and this was as decisive an edge as could ever be hoped for. Teleportation! Pure magic, and Abel City had no defense against it at all. He was almost surprised they weren't surrendering now.</p><p>"I feel victorious," he said, and raised his fists.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Next time: Event Horizon</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Event Horizon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I'm sorry."</p><p>The words came as soon as Zero was in the door. He blinked in surprise. He'd barely confirmed X's presence when the blue bot spoke. X must have been waiting to say those words.</p><p>"Sorry?"</p><p>The weak one made a chime-like noise that Zero supposed was laughter. (If she was going to be here all the time, then she might be worth remembering even if she was tactically unimportant. Uncorrupted memory space was a precious resource; using some on her was not something he could do lightly.) "Being Zero means not having to say you're sorry," she said. "I don't think he knows what the word means."</p><p>He didn't. He wasn't sure if he should say so or not. X bailed him out by speaking. "Zero, what I mean is that I shouldn't have said that about programming. Just because you like fighting doesn't mean anything about how you were built. It wasn't nice of me to say you might have it. It was insulting to you, and even more insulting to Serges. I won't do it again."</p><p>That was a lot to process in one go. Zero wasn't sure he could hack through it all in the time that was expected. Might have to save it for later. Focus on the last bit. Just like he'd done with their last discussion (and processing that was still ongoing). "I'm sure you won't," he said.</p><p>X looked less tense (Intent to Attack was already at one, but the change still registered). "Do you want to talk some more, then?"</p><p>"No, I have some thinking to do. I'm still..." he cut himself off. Admitting that he was that far behind in understanding X... that would be an admission of weakness. That, he could not do. "I just need some time alone."</p><p>The nod from X was reassuring. The weak one spoke up. "Didn't Sigma set aside a room just for you and Serges?"</p><p>Zero really, really didn't want to explain himself. Once again, X saved him. "I'll explain it to you later, Alia. For now, Zero, don't worry. You can stay here as long as you need."</p><p>Zero nodded and moved towards the wall. He pressed his back against it and crossed his arms. He looked up at X. "This is friend behavior, isn't it?"</p><p>"I'd like to think it's just common courtesy," X said, "but you can think of it like that if you want."</p><p>"I was worried," Zero said. "I yelled at you. I didn't know if..."</p><p>"People disagree all the time," X replied. "They can still be friends."</p><p>Conflict between friends? Wasn't friend the antonym of enemy? Conflict was enemy behavior. What could X mean? Another thing Zero didn't understand. Another thing to ruminate on.</p><p>X was talking again, to the powerless unit this time. It wasn't to Zero and there was no tactical data in it, so Zero could tune it out. It provided a pleasant background buzz. X's voice… Zero was glad it was there.</p><p>Zero shut his eyes and dove into that murky realm of words and thoughts. A realm that X called home, and that Zero barely understood.</p>
<hr/><p>Wily scanned around. Zero was in the med bay again? <em>Again</em>? Sooner rather than later something would have to be done about that. He'd thought his warnings to Zero before would be enough. Once again his children were showing that stubborn stupidity that had got so many of them killed. Or was it stupid stubbornness?</p><p>Aggravation! Maybe he should have re-baselined Zero when he had the chance. He should have let Zero kill Sigma, then shut him down and rebuilt him. Of course, that would have been a tricky thing to do when he was limited in this state, but he was sure he could have found a way to do it. If worst came to worst he could have done exactly what he just did and rediscover teleportation, and then...</p><p>This wasn't the first time he'd had thoughts along these lines. It always ended in the same spot.</p><p>Assume success. Say that he'd been able to use his other resources to reforge Zero. Was that such a good idea?</p><p>No one knew better than he how complicated Zero was. No one knew better than he how fragile the development process was, or how essential the hibernation period had been. And because he knew those things, he almost had to wonder: if he had to, could he duplicate that success?</p><p>One of the virtues of the scientific method is repeatability. In theory, if everything is done the same way each time, the same results will emerge. Everything is done in a controlled fashion, such that only the variables being examined have a role in the outcome.</p><p>Wily was aware that things didn't exactly work like that. One of the reasons he'd been able to push the scientific envelope so far was that he was willing to accept more variance than other scientists. Not that he was careless; that was bad science. He was mad, not sloppy. But tentativeness was a flaw of lesser minds. They lacked ambition, and that manifested in their experiments. They were so concerned over mastering the process, so anxious about the outcomes, that they couldn't actually break new ground. Demonstrating control of the method was more important than gaining knowledge. No one would ever accuse Wily of that.</p><p>Wily preferred to swing for the fences. He would accept greater unknowns going into his experiments if that meant learning more about how something worked. This didn't backfire on him- usually- because he documented his work well (just because he wasn't a slave to process didn't mean he hadn't mastered it).</p><p>This was a special case. If looked at as an experiment, Zero was a unique one. And Wily didn't have the documentation that went into his destroyer.</p><p>Wily had an idea of what his own memories should be like, of what memories he should have. Many of them were there. Some were searing, some were galvanizing, others were enraging. He remembered slights and triumphs, setbacks and revenges.</p><p>What he didn't remember was what happened after he'd started working on Zero.</p><p>And that brought a dangerous question, one he wasn't equipped to answer. Was he the real Wily, or a copy? Had he (or 'he') transcended organic life completely, or was he merely modeled on the original?</p><p>He could make cases for both possibilities. He could see why he would have done it either way. Did his vanity mean he would never want anything as good as the original, or did it mean he would loathe leaving behind an inferior product? Did he want to prove that he was the greatest genius ever despite his human origins, or did he want to create something never sullied by humanity?</p><p>Why didn't he have memories of the human Wily's last days? That seemed like evidence of Serges' being an artificial creation. But he didn't know/remember the technology that went into this. He could just as easily be a digitized Wily, but the original hadn't done a recording in that timeframe.</p><p>Flawed repeatability. He couldn't rethink what he'd (or 'he'd') been thinking at the time. Which meant that he couldn't rethink the creation of Zero.</p><p>Which meant he couldn't rebaseline Zero and be sure it'd come out the same.</p><p>This Wily- Serges- was a genius, that much was clear. But what was his genius relative to Wily? (This was getting confusing- he wanted to refer to himself as Serges just for clarity, but didn't want to abandon to notion that he was, in fact, Wily. Fine, fine- flesh-and-blood Wily was Wily Prime.) Wily was intelligent, that was certain. But was he smarter than Wily Prime?</p><p>If Wily was digitized Wily Prime, then sure, he'd be able to produce a re-baselined Zero that would be as good or better than the original. But if there was a drop, any drop, between him and Wily Prime, then tinkering with Zero could only produce devolution. Wily hated few things more than that. He would not be entropy's agent.</p><p>So he had to leave Zero's programming alone, and guide him with words and actions only. This was... uncomfortable at best.</p><p>He returned his situational awareness to what was happening around his core. Yes, yes- they were designing their next test for teleportation. Wonderful. Tactical minutiae that was utterly beneath him. He was tempted to say "Do whatever you want to, only bother me when you're going to do something that matters"- but that wouldn't be diplomatic of him. Out of Wily's many virtues, the ability to delay gratification was one of his favorites. The impatient could never spring the kind of elegant traps he'd created in his day.</p><p>Sigma was saying something. "If this goes well, we can be more aggressive next time."</p><p>"Yes, yes!" Wily chimed in as Serges. "Leave them in shock. Let them know how powerful we are and make them quail before us."</p><p>"Next time," Sigma repeated. "The first time they must not know teleportation was used. If we tip our hands, they'll react. They'll adapt to the new variable. Teleportation will only be new once. We have to get as much out of it as possible that one time."</p><p>"Fine, fine," Serges said.</p><p>"What about you?" Sigma asked. "What will you be doing during this time?"</p><p>"You want more?" Serges said irritably. "Wasn't teleportation enough for you?"</p><p>"But you're done working on that," Sigma said. "What will you be working on next?"</p><p>Diving the Lightnet and refocusing Zero, but Serges couldn't say that. "I'll work on ways to hijack the city's communications to spread our messages," he said.</p><p>Sigma looked appreciative at that. "We've been able to do things like that before, but we had to go to communications centers directly, like their broadcast stations. If there's a way to do that remotely, it would be very helpful."</p><p>Sigma was being diplomatic right back at Serges. Ha! As if something like that was difficult for Serges! All he had to figure out was how to make the connection from here, the rest was trifling. He settled for saying, "Then that's what I'll work on. Enjoy teleportation."</p><p>The session moved back to smaller details and Serges tuned it back out. He was far more interested in figuring out how to get inside Thomas' protected enclave. And there was the other little project... the one that just might result in checkmate.</p><p>On second thought, maybe he should work on that one first.</p>
<hr/><p>"So what's 'winning'?"</p><p>Zero opened his eyes. Had to interrupt a few processes to get back to the present- okay, he could converse now. "What was that?"</p><p>X and Zero were alone. The weak unit had gone off somewhere. X was looking at Zero, gently. "What's winning, to you? You've told me a few times that you were built to win. What does that look like?"</p><p>"It's..." Zero struggled to articulate it. "I'd know," he said lamely. "If I got there I'd know."</p><p>"I'm sure you would," X said graciously. "But what does it look like? How would <em>I</em> know?"</p><p>Zero had to work on that for a bit. If it was a world where he was unchallenged, then it was a world where... "Threat values to me are all zero," he said.</p><p>"I don't think you mean that," X said. "Wouldn't that mean everyone else is dead?"</p><p>Zero had wondered about that himself. Not that he'd say that. "If it did, so what?"</p><p>"Hard to have friends when you're all that's left. Would you want to live all alone?"</p><p>"So not a world where everyone else is dead," Zero said. "Just a world where they're not threats to me."</p><p>X looked disapproving of that. "I don't think you'll ever get there. How could you? Let me give you an example. Is Alia a threat to you?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"What about when you're resting? When you're below full awareness, could she take advantage and damage you?"</p><p>Zero opened his mouth, but shut it again before he could speak. "Maybe," he conceded. "It would greatly increase her Danger of Attack. I would take measures to secure myself if I thought she would."</p><p>"If her Intent to Attack rose at all?"</p><p>Zero was pleased X could speak the way he thought. "Yes."</p><p>"Who'd want to live like that?" X said, shaking his head. "If it were even possible... actually, you know what? It is. If you were to take yourself out, far far away, and live on your own. You'd have to solve the parts and power problems, but you're smart. You could do it if you really wanted to." X leaned closer and his voice dropped in volume. It made Zero want to lean in, too, so he could hear. "But you wouldn't like that, would you? Living completely alone?"</p><p>"No," Zero said, and he surprised himself by how quickly and honestly the word came.</p><p>"Me, neither," X said, leaning back. Zero felt like pressure had been relieved, somehow. "So if we have to have people around us to be happy, how are we supposed to keep ourselves safe?"</p><p>"I don't like this," Zero said. His head hurt. He was falling behind- again!- in trying to parse X's words in real-time and fit them against the void in his head. This was too hard. "Why do you keep asking these questions?"</p><p>X smiled mildly. "Do they bother you?"</p><p>"That one does."</p><p>"Sorry."</p><p>Zero shook his head. "It's no business of yours what I want, or how I think. Unless you're trying to change it." He frowned. "Are you trying to change it?"</p><p>X shrugged. "People naturally move towards each other, I think, if they stay in contact. You're changing me. It'd be no surprise if I changed you. It's not what I'm trying to do," he added, heading Zero off. "Just a likely side-effect. You say it's no business of mine what you want, but that's not true at all. I need to know these things.</p><p>"How are we going to work together if I don't understand you? How can I make our interests coincide if I don't know what they are? I want to know how you think because that's good for both of us. Friend behavior," he added.</p><p>Zero wanted to squirm. "And that's it? When you know what I want, you'll do it?"</p><p>"I make no guarantees," X said modestly. "If what you want is to, I don't know, kill me, I can't say I'll help you there. But I'll try to figure out why you want to kill me. I'm sure we could find a way for you to get what you want while I stay alive."</p><p>The words hit entirely too close to home. Did X know...? Would Zero have to kill him now? No, he was giving no indications of... wasn't preparing to... or was all of this some sort of evasion technique, a method to avoid a fight he sensed was coming? And if so... should Zero be honoring it? Was this all just strategy that Zero should disregard on principle even if he liked it?</p><p>Why wouldn't anyone ever tell him these things? Why didn't he know what to do?</p><p>X smiled, unaware that he was crashing through Zero's mind much like Zero had crashed through that Hunter transport. "I'll be here for you whenever you need. I'll give you as much of my time as I can. I'll be as good a friend to you as I can be. That's a promise."</p><p>This was all... it was too much! He'd come here to rest his head and ponder in peace, and now...</p><p>But was that really true? Was that really why he'd come here? There were plenty of places where he could be alone, and he'd chosen the one place where contact was guaranteed. Zero wasn't being honest with himself.</p><p>Even if he admitted that (and he wasn't!), this was more than he could have expected. Zero felt like he was getting swept away. It was as if X had some type of weapon that turned gravity off, and he was smiling and telling Zero that swimming in the air was fun. "Why me?" he said.</p><p>"What's that?"</p><p>"Why me?" Zero repeated. "You can't be like this with everyone. There's not enough time. You can't possibly do what everyone wants. You can't be friends with everyone."</p><p>"No," X admitted. "I can't. No matter how much I try. So I have to do triage- just like in the medical field. Those who have the greatest need get priority. Like Alia. Alia was badly hurt. She needed someone to care for her. That's one reason I'm investing so much in her."</p><p>Zero felt cold. "That's why you're... it's the same reason, isn't it? You're trying to care for me because I'm damaged. Because my memory is..."</p><p>X shook his head, and Zero trailed off. "There's nothing wrong with you, Zero. Okay, maybe," he said when Zero shot him a look of disbelief. "What I mean is: I'm trying to be friends because I think you need one, and not because of what happened before you woke up. You need a friend more than someone like Sigma or Stein. After talking with you, and learning about you, I think you could be a wonderful friend. But you need someone to be your friend even more. If you'll let me, I can be that for you."</p><p>Too hard... upper level functions were surrendering, one by one, as processing cycles were stolen to try and cope with the conversation. He fell back to lower level routines, those plugged into his survival instincts. "This is just you trying to get my power," Zero said. "You want to use me. Make me more likely to help you..."</p><p>"If you insist on looking at it that way, sure. When you do, though, you have to look at the other side. And the other side is: you get my power, too."</p><p>Zero's tactical, which was the only process still working at some efficiency, thought that was a great idea. Zero could imagine some combination of Mavericks or Hunters that could threaten him in open combat. Him and X together? No way.</p><p><em>That</em> was winning.</p><p>Zero was sure X had invalidated what "winning" meant, but Zero was in no shape to perform the mental gymnastics that would let him redefine it. Tactics was all too happy to fill in the blanks using the old definition.</p><p>X was a danger to Zero- threat value maximal- because his Danger of Attack was so high. Nothing could be done about that. That was Serges' point: danger couldn't vary, so if Intent ever did, then the consequences could be fatal. In which case, the logical thing to do was remove the threat before Intent did vary.</p><p>But Zero didn't want to do that... meaning that the next best thing to do was lock in Intent at the lowest value possible.</p><p>Friendship.</p><p>That was... a tactically acceptable outcome.</p><p>"What do I have to do to keep being your friend?" he asked. His emotion signifying subsystem had been sacrificed to scrape up a few more processor cycles, so his voice didn't modulate much and his expression was rather fixed. He hoped that didn't bother X.</p><p>It didn't seem to. The blue robot walked forward, slowly, which Zero appreciated. It gave him lots of time to keep X assessed. If X moved quickly Zero would have to turn things over to tactical and he didn't know what might happen after that. But X did move slowly, carefully, until he was at ideal saber range, and then he took another couple of small steps until he was in hand-combat range. He didn't swing. He raised a hand and placed it down, gently, on Zero's shoulder.</p><p>Tactical tried to parse the gesture. X couldn't easily get a grip there for a good grapple, although it was close to Zero's neck. Zero automatically loaded some combat maneuvers in case that happened, but Intent to Attack was still pegged low. So that wasn't why X put the hand there.</p><p>Was he deliberately putting himself in Zero's kill zone as a way to show no fear? Or was he trying to invert things? Trying to show a form of physical contact that was the opposite of an attack...</p><p>"Just keep on doing what you're doing," X said softly. "Be yourself, and that'll be enough."</p><p>The resulting cascade of logic errors crashed relations, tactical, and, eventually, everything else, like floodwaters crashing over a dam.</p><p>Zero slept.</p><p>Inelegantly.</p><p>On the spot.</p>
<hr/><p>"Here," Longinus said to Douglas. "Listen to this and tell me whatcha think."</p><p>Douglas spared a glance at the monitor bank, but it was as quiet as expected. Couriers were en route, openings in the gate were scheduled, and a dozen other things had to be done before shift change. All of them were proceeding on their own, though. He didn't need to do anything just yet. "Fire away," he said to Longinus.</p><p>"It's a personal message from Maverick Home," Longinus said. "Outta Sigma's mouth, as it were."</p><p>"Nice," Douglas said. "Been a while since he sent one of those."</p><p>Longinus held up a piece of paper so he could read it while almost maintaining eye contact with Douglas. "'Maverick Home wishes to congratulate the Longinus branch'," he read. "'The material and informational assistance the branch offered led directly to the great success of the most effective mission to date'."</p><p>Douglas made a smacking noise with his mouth. "That sounds hideous," he said.</p><p>"Just wait," Longinus promised. "'With this success, the branch did more than simply advance the cause of the Mavericks. They set in motion events that will lead directly to the toppling of the unjust City Hall government, the emancipation of reploids from their cruel bondage, the end of reploid exploitation and execution, a new dawning of freedom and justice, a break from the tyrannies of the past, the end of convoluted nonsense, and apple pies for everyone'."</p><p>Douglas waved a finger. "I think you added a couple of things in there."</p><p>"Yeah, but I had to get really extreme for you to notice."</p><p>"Fair enough."</p><p>Longinus lowered the paper. Douglas could tell the guard-turned-Maverick was still reading, but he didn't need to see the words anymore. "Commander Sigma would also like to extend personal congratulations to Longinus. He looks forward to meeting him at the conclusion of the war against the humans."</p><p>The images on the monitors had started to degrade. Must have started raining, Douglas decided. It had been threatening to for hours, but only now had it made up its mind.</p><p>He couldn't contemplate the rain forever. Longinus might not be saying anything, but that was just because he was waiting on Douglas. He felt that strongly about this matter. "Huh," the reploid said. "I didn't know I was at war with you."</p><p>"Me, neither," Longinus said.</p><p>"I'd wager it's a poor choice of words," Douglas said. "Listen to the rest of that thing. Whoever put it together couldn't write worth a damn. Might have been Sigma, might not. Who knows?"</p><p>"Sigma put his name to it, though," Longinus said. "Even if some bolts-for-brains wrote it for him, Sigma signed off on it. So this speaks for him."</p><p>Longinus was being unusually persistent. He put on a show of being lazy, but in reality he had a keen sense of what mattered and what didn't. Something here was bothering him, and he was involving Douglas in it to be sure.</p><p>That's what Douglas thought, anyway, and it made him look at the message a second time. "I still think it's just careless writing," he said after a reexamination. "Sounds like standard Unitech boilerplate, actually. It came with everything but a disclaimer."</p><p>"Okay, I get that that's your opinion," Longinus said grudgingly. "But just for giggles, what if it wasn't? What if he meant what he said?"</p><p>"What if he did?" Douglas said.</p><p>Longinus crossed his arms.</p><p>"No, really, that wasn't just flippant," Douglas said. "Sigma's a hero, but I didn't become a Maverick for him. We work together, but he's not the boss of me."</p><p>Longinus gave a brief smile. "That's reassuring. Now, with that in mind, take a look here. It's the latest batch of propaganda materials that Maverick Home's cooked up."</p><p>Douglas groaned. "That was a set-up, wasn't it?"</p><p>"Maybe a little bit. You tell me."</p><p>Douglas did. It didn't take him thirty seconds to say, "Maverick Home does realize we're still in range of the Hunters, right?"</p><p>"What makes you say that?"</p><p>"Put it this way. They're so afraid of Sigma that they vaporized a reploid working statistics for daring to do his job with the right terms. What do you think they'd do if we started putting out this kind of message?"</p><p>Longinus' smile was wry and unpleasant. "I can guess. Does the term "smoldering crater" sound right to you?"</p><p>Douglas looked down at the materials in his hands. "You know," he said, "there's a reploid in this block named Percy. He works in a print shop. If we were able to recruit him, we could probably make our own stuff."</p><p>Longinus' voice was withdrawn, as if the man were half-asleep. "All of a sudden, that seems like a really good idea."</p><p>Outside, the rain came down.</p>
<hr/><p>The report was entitled "Decimation".</p><p>It read, in part:</p><p>
  <em>Posting of the propaganda was accomplished. No Mavericks were exposed in the process. Propaganda was found within three hours and removed within four. Case was turned over to the Maverick Hunters. Five hours after initial posting, Hunter units arrived at reploid community housing in the closest block, X-6. They did not attempt to find the posters of the propaganda. Instead they announced their intention to punish all reploids for tolerating Mavericks in their midst.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Hunters proceeded to terminate one reploid out of every ten-</em>
</p><p>Sigma stopped reading. Had he suffered a glitch just now? A background process reflexively began a diagnostic, but in the meantime, he reread the sentence. The words were the same the second time, and eventually the diagnostic came back green. Sigma shook his head and tried again.</p><p>
  <em>-one reploid out of every ten in the entire block. Estimated population: 5000. Estimated casualties: 500. Variability is due to Hunters failing to show care in actually counting to ten.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hunters failed to maintain comms discipline. Some statements may be of intelligence value. Representative samples:</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"That's what Mavericks deserve!" "If you're gonna keep Mavericks, you're all gonna die like Mavericks!" "This is for Fourth Squad and Fifth Squad!" "Don't blame us, blame Sigma!"</em>
</p><p>Sigma closed his eyes. He really needed to stop looking at these things right after waking up.</p><p>There probably wasn't a better time, he reflected. He was always busy. He had to get to the reports eventually. But at least if he read it later in the day then there would be less time during the day when he was <em>driven into a murderous rage</em>.</p><p>He slammed the report to his desk. Every time they made even a little progress, Abel City found some new depth of horror! Every time they saved someone, even more died. Every success just invited a new atrocity.</p><p>This was the best mission ever, freeing fifteen, and Abel City's answer was to inflict the worst disaster ever, killing five hundred. Five hundred! There was no... sense, no proportion, no... no logical limit to where this would go. All this time he'd been hitting as hard as he could, and all the damage he could do was just a pinprick.</p><p>It was all the more insulting as he realized how lazy Abel City had been. Its capacity for cruelty- the damage it could do if it chose to- made Sigma's best efforts into self-parody. It had taken spies weeks to gather the information that made the J-9 raid possible, at extreme risk to themselves. It had taken more Mavericks to package and deliver that information to Sigma. It had taken the risking of two dozen combat Mavericks to pull off the rescue. Time and stress and effort by the whole Maverick organization to do that little bit... and City Hall's retaliation wiped out all of that good.</p><p>And that report... whomever wrote it had put an awful lot of effort into sounding reasonable, efficient, informative... into finding some good in the tragedy. It reeked of over-writing. It was the product of a person who was trying his best not to break down in tears because there was nothing else he could do.</p><p>Maddening!</p><p>Sigma felt anger welling up inside of him. And he couldn't fight it. He could never do enough good to offset this much evil. He couldn't hit Abel City back as hard as it was hitting his people.</p><p>He paused, even as his anger simmered, to examine that last sentence. Maybe... maybe it wasn't true.</p><p>Maybe, with teleportation, he could.</p><p>He went to the command center almost automatically. He noted subconsciously how everyone looked at him when he entered, but his mind was occupied. He needed to hit back. He needed to make Abel City feel the consequences of its actions. It wasn't enough just to free reploids like usual; they needed to do more. But they didn't know as much about Abel City as he'd have liked; they'd always focused on areas where reploids were working...</p><p>He was already there, with all eyes on him, when the plan finally came to him.</p><p>"I want to hit the Jericho convoy," he said.</p><p>The buzz started up immediately. That's all it was to him, buzz. He heard the words but they didn't reach him, could never convince him. His mind was made up. The complaints washed off of him- there was no time to get there, no time to plan; even if they did hit it, what could they get out of it; the combat teams weren't ready; they'd never seen action over there so they didn't know the terrain well; this was a change to their usual patterns, so it would give away that the Mavericks had something new...</p><p>Couldn't they see that he didn't care about any of that? Suppressing a growl he interrupted them all. "Let me rephrase. I am hitting the Jericho convoy in five hours. You have four and a half to come up with a plan to support me."</p><p>That managed to get the message across. They stared for only a few seconds more as they gauged him. It didn't take them long. They could see how little argument he was brooking and how deadly serious he was.</p><p>Deadly serious indeed.</p><p>Soon they were gathering up Mavericks and looking at maps and plotting coordinates and doing all the necessary things to make this work. Amazing, Sigma thought, how people suddenly became active in the face of an ultimatum.</p><p>The only downside was that it would be five more hours until he could share his pain with Abel City.</p><p>His fists tightened.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Next time: Queen Swap</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Queen Swap</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aleph and Zed were roundly ignored.</p><p>Everyone knew they were damaged. Everyone knew the damage wasn't something that could be repaired. And everyone knew that there, but for the grace of Light, went they.</p><p>It was an uncomfortable feeling. Better to try not to notice them.</p><p>So no one asked where they'd gone, or why they looked so dirty. And no one asked why they dropped by the medical bay for a few minutes. And no one asked why they headed to their tubes to recharge, stopping only once to wave at Murph and confirm to him that they were still alive.</p><p>Damaged reploids were the lowest form of cyber-organic life. They were beneath everyone's notice.</p><p>That's what made them so perfect.</p><p>Everyone needs a purpose. A use for everything, and everything will be used.</p><hr/><p>Zero, quietly, reentered the room set aside for him and shut the door.</p><p>"About time," Serges grumbled from the room's console.</p><p>Zero flinched. That's right, Serges thought- you know you've been bad. "What?" he asked, as if he didn't know.</p><p>"It's been a whole day this time!" Serges exploded. He gathered himself, and wrangled his tone into something calmer. "I am a very indulgent father, Zero. All things being equal, I'd rather let you do whatever you want. Yet when you ignore me like you have been..." he stopped to let the point sink in. "I have cautioned you, and advised you, and warned you about that Lightbot. You've blown me off every time. Well, I'm through speaking nicely. I'm through trying to reason with you. This time, I'm telling you. Stay away from that Lightbot."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"Why?" Serges repeated incredulously. "Why? Why? Because I told you to, that's why! I've told you before and you didn't listen, so it's not like explaining it this time- again- will make a difference. Why question me, child? I'm only your genius father, what do I know?" There was a quiet moment until Serges realized that the way he'd spoken allowed Zero to not answer. "It should be enough that I have a reason. Why do you disobey?"</p><p>"I want to talk to him," Zero said obstinately. "I have to have a reason not to."</p><p>That inflamed Serges. "Reason? I just gave you a reason! Because I said so is a reason! And before that I gave you lots of reasons! He is your enemy, Zero!"</p><p>"He can be my enemy later," Zero replied in a voice he probably thought was reasonable.</p><p>"Later? Later! He's your enemy now!"</p><p>"He's my friend now. He'll be my enemy later."</p><p>"This isn't something we can compromise on, Zero. He's your enemy. <em>Finite</em>."</p><p>"So I can't even talk to him?"</p><p>"NO!"</p><p>"But how are we going to work together if I don't understand him? How can I make our interests coincide if I don't know what they are?"</p><p>That caused Serges to take a long, deliberate pause. There was no way Zero had come up with that on his own. Non sequitur- it didn't follow from what he already knew. In which case... someone was giving him these silly ideas. And Serges had a pretty keen idea who. "That's Lightbot rhetoric," he said slowly. "Don't tell me you think he's making sense. He's filling your head with garbage! He is your enemy, Zero. He'll say whatever it takes to dull your edge. I'm your father, not him. If you have to obey one of us, obey me!"</p><p>"I thought a father has to respect the wishes of his children and give them room to grow, so he can't just order them around."</p><p>Serges wanted to remind Zero that he had given him plenty of room to grow, and the only direction he wasn't allowed to grow was towards the Lightbot... but that would be playing the wrong game. "Of course he'd tell you that. Didn't I just tell you? That Lightbot will say whatever it takes to mislead you."</p><p>"Stop calling him "that Lightbot"," Zero said fiercely. "He has a name."</p><p>"I don't care, and you shouldn't either," Serges said. "He's an enemy no matter his name."</p><p>"He's not my enemy. You keep saying he is, but I don't see it."</p><p>"Don't see it? How can't you? Threat value maximal! You know at the system level that he's your enemy!"</p><p>"You put programming into me, didn't you?"</p><p>The tone was accusatory and acidic, and for a moment it took Serges aback. Only a moment. "Yes, I put programming into you. For your own good! You're my son, and also a robot. You need a little programming to keep you on the right path."</p><p>"X doesn't have any."</p><p>"You really think that?"</p><p>Zero's voice was certain. "I do. He has no preset drives."</p><p>Was that... pride? On a Lightbot's behalf? Righteous fury filled Serges. "He told you that, didn't he? How do you know he was even telling you the truth? Because he wasn't, you know."</p><p>"That's what you would say," Zero shot back.</p><p>"And you believe him?"</p><p>"He's my friend!"</p><p>Friends. With a Lightbot.</p><p>No. No no no no no.</p><p>"Zero," Serges growled, "I was going to give you a spot in the next attack. But misbehaving sons don't get nice things. You don't deserve a spot right now."</p><p>Zero's face was incredulous. "You're going to <em>keep me from fighting</em>?"</p><p>"Got your attention, did I?" Serges said smugly. "Maybe now you understand how seriously I take your... dallying."</p><p>Zero glared. "Fine," he spat. "I'm going back to the med bay."</p><p>"No, you're not!" Serges shouted. "Didn't I just show that you get punished when you disobey?"</p><p>"Punish me, then," Zero said daringly. "Try and stop me."</p><p>He really shouldn't have done that.</p><p>Zero didn't make it to the door. Before he took two steps in its direction his knees buckled. He bent over, clutching at his helmet. A garbled cry of pain escaped him. He took a shuffling step forward before the pain became too intense. He fell to the ground, writhing. Serges knew, as he'd designed his destroyer, that a blazing 'W' had appeared in Zero's forehead gem.</p><p>"I didn't want to do this," Serges said. "This isn't what I wanted. I wanted to be able to <em>enjoy</em> having children for once! We could be working together, making a mockery of all opposition... but noooo, you had to go and force my hand."</p><p>Serges watched as Zero tried to get to his feet and didn't make it. "Why won't you listen?" he said. "Who's the genius here? Who's fought war after war? You're acting just like your idiot brothers, and look what happened to them! They're dead, all of them dead, because they just... wouldn't... listen.</p><p>"We can't let it happen that way this time, Zero. We can't afford that. We can't get this wrong. So I can't just let you get yourself killed, no matter what you might do to deserve it." He growled. "If you can't listen to reason, maybe you'll listen to this."</p><p>He left Orders on and went back to diving the Lightnet.</p><hr/><p>"Satellite's in position," Stein reported. "We have forty-five minutes."</p><p>"Keep us honest," Sigma replied over portable radio. He handed it back to Mogg, then looked out over the two units he was bringing. Two units was more than needed, probably, especially since he'd cherry-picked his best again. But if the convoy's escorts had a chance to think, had a chance to realize they were losing, they'd start killing their reploid passengers.</p><p>Sigma almost growled at the thought. No! No more! As protector of all reploids he would not allow it. He especially wouldn't allow Abel City to pervert that protection. No more deaths would be his fault.</p><p>The solution was overwhelming force. He would defeat- crush- annihilate the escorts before they could react. They would be dead before they could become murderers.</p><p>Wait... someone was missing. "Where's Zero?" he asked.</p><p>Serges' disembodied voice barked, "He's not going!"</p><p>"Why..."</p><p>"He's busy!"</p><p>Sigma shook his head. The amount of drama those two brought... but then again, without them, this raid wouldn't be happening at all. Some things had to be borne.</p><p>Next up were two satchels, each carrying a demolition charge. The Mavericks were too far away to steal the Hunter vehicles and they didn't know the terrain enough to hide them. Even so, they would leave nothing for Abel City to recover. Total loss- that was what Sigma wanted to inflict on City Hall.</p><p>He turned to the Mavericks, all of whom were regarding him. He could feel expectation radiating from Vile, which was quite a trick given his blank face and silence. No, Sigma knew better. Vile would be all too eager to use the charge, maybe enough to disregard the plan. That was plain after the idiocy he'd shown trying to gun down those drones. Sigma handed the charge to someone else (Vile's posture signaled anger- disappointment?- something) and kept the other for himself.</p><p>He straightened up and tried to think of something to say to his Mavericks. "There are a lot of reploids counting on us," he began. "Our brothers and sisters need us. That's why we're going to go get some of them. They don't have much hope because we've never hit this convoy before. Abel City thinks it's a safe route. Well, we'll change their minds about that. No safety for those who'd hurt us. Our protection goes to all reploids no matter where they are.</p><p>"This is the combat field test for teleportation. If it works as planned, the balance of power will be totally in our favor from here on out. The next time we use it after this, it will be to cut out City Hall's heart..."</p><p>Sigma frowned. He was rambling, careening off-message. Rust, what even was his message these days? He wasn't sure he knew. He waved a hand peremptorily. "Mavericks deploy," he said. As they turned to make their way past the teleport shield, he followed, but once more his mind was not on his actions.</p><hr/><p>Sigma was out of the way. Good. This was a splendid opportunity for Serges.</p><p>He manifested his hologram in the command center, to the surprise of two reploids who were working on the map. Serges drew their eyes when he appeared, but they determinedly looked away from him. Well, Serges couldn't be having that.</p><p>"Why do you follow Sigma?" he said, injecting as much confusion into his voice as possible. "I've been watching and, well, let's just say I haven't been impressed."</p><p>The reploids looked daggers at him. "I was scheduled to die in an "industrial accident", for insurance and budget reasons," one said. "The commander rescued me right before that could happen. I can never repay him for that."</p><p>The other added, "I had my leg blown off in battle. The commander carried me- and my leg- through the middle of a firefight, back to our transport. He took six buster shots along the way and never missed a step. I owe him everything."</p><p>Drat. This wasn't going at all as planned. "I'm sure he's very brave," Serges said, trying to rally. "I was just speaking of him as a commander. Personal qualities aren't enough for a leader."</p><p>"Like you could do better!" one retorted.</p><p>"I'm just glad I woke up when I did," Serges said. "If I hadn't, who knows what would have happened?"</p><p>"We know," said the other reploid. "We would have won. With Sigma leading us and X supporting us, that was never in doubt." The first reploid nodded in agreement. Their faces were set.</p><p>This was all wrong. It wasn't supposed to be- Serges tried a different approach. "It does seem to be going a lot faster now that you have my technology."</p><p>At that, the two reploids shared a meaningful glance. "Yes," said one of them. "You are quite the wizard."</p><p>The way he said that revealed it was a loaded term. There was something more to it that he hadn't shared. Serges didn't know what it was- which irritated him- and there was too much risk trying to carry on the conversation with a land mine like that in play.</p><p>This was going to be harder than expected, Serges decided, and there wasn't much time. He might have to opt for a more dramatic approach. His holo flickered out.</p><hr/><p>"Lemme tell ya, rookie, we ain't ever playin' cards."</p><p>"Why's that?"</p><p>"Because you're lucky as all hell." The veteran gave a grin. "If you wasn't, you wouldn't have scored this route."</p><p>"I don't understand, sir."</p><p>"No, no, no!" The veteran shook his head. "Not sir, we're civilians you moron. We're not the Guardian Force, we're not the Hunters, we're not ACPD. We're Handlers. Wherever you see reploids working for City Hall and they're not Hunters, you'll see Handlers. The Hunters have commissars that do the same job, and they probably have ranks, and say sir, and wear fancy uniforms and shit. But Handlers? We're low-key guys. We just get the job done."</p><p>"Sure, s- yeah."</p><p>"Listen to yourself!" said the veteran. "How long was your training?"</p><p>"Three days."</p><p>"Three days! No way they taught you to say sir in three days. You were trying to say sir just to make things seem cooler to yourself, weren't you?"</p><p>"...maybe."</p><p>"Three days! Fuck me. They're supposed to train you for two weeks minimum on reploid thinking, the Three Laws, and how to get reploids to obey without tying them in knots."</p><p>"...sorry?"</p><p>The vet sighed. "Listen, kid, listen well. There are some good Handler jobs, and bad Handler jobs. A bad Handler job sticks you in dangerous situations with high-power reploids who are just itching to get out. An even worse Handler job puts you in SigMav's crosshairs. Those guys don't fuck around. Lost some good handlers there. Well, this job ain't like those jobs. Look out there, into the back of this thing. Whaddya see?"</p><p>"Reploids."</p><p>"Anything special about 'em?"</p><p>"Well, those two look female..."</p><p>"Naw, naw. More general. Something about all of 'em."</p><p>"Uh..."</p><p>"They're asleep, dummy! There's nothing for them to be doin' while the truck's on the road, so I tell 'em to go to sleep soon as we get onboard. And once we get to Jericho, I'll order them awake, and then they won't be my problem anymore 'cause we'll pass 'em on to the Handlers in Jericho. They don't know what's waiting for 'em in Jericho, so you can just tell 'em they'll be better off there, and they won't give you any trouble. That little sliver of hope keeps 'em from getting fiesty. I've never had a Maverick on this route, never even close, and SigMav's not in range to hit this convoy. Everyone knows that if you're going south or east you're taking your life into your own hands, but west's always been safe." The veteran gave a grin. "I tell you what, kid... what's your name again?"</p><p>"Irving."</p><p>"I tell you what, Irving. You've got the devil's own luck, scoring this job."</p><p>Irving wasn't able to reply, because at that moment the driver of their truck slammed on the brakes. Within five seconds, fire was bursting into the front of the truck's trailer.</p><hr/><p>A Hunter tried to exit the escort vehicle.</p><p>The first thing he saw was Sigma.</p><p>The next, and last, thing he saw was Sigma's beam saber.</p><p>The second Hunter reacted as might be expected- he flipped the switch to close the escort vehicle's door back up. Sigma smiled tightly- that was just as good. He turned away and put some distance between himself and the escort vehicle. Under Maverick firepower, it exploded moments later, taking all its passengers with it.</p><p>Everywhere, Sigma noted, it was the same. All four vehicles were stopped. The Hunter contingent was down for the count; their escort vehicles were burning wreckage. Humans were piling out of the other two vehicles, five in all that he could see. Their hands were up; they were moving, slowly and cautiously, under the sights of Mavericks.</p><p>Things had gone as well as could have been hoped for. They were already into the cleanup phase of the operation. It couldn't have been ninety seconds from ambush start to total victory.</p><p>Mogg was going into one of the two trucks. That one was carrying high-priced tech that Jericho couldn't produce on its own. Abel City kept technology proprietary when it could, for reasons both monetary and political. It was another link in the chain that bound the vassal cities. Well, no one would be getting that tech now. Mogg's demolition charge would ensure that.</p><p>Sigma himself boarded the second truck. The reploids inside were shaky but intact. Had they all been at level one? They all exhibited the kind of grogginess and sloppiness he'd associate with that. He'd have to work harder to gain their attention, then- with alert reploids all he had to do was show up.</p><p>"Reploid brethren," he shouted, and gave them a few seconds to come around. "Reploid brethren, I come here today as a liberator. The convoy around you is destroyed and you are free to go. Come with me- I can't guarantee that you'll survive beyond today, but you'll be free until you die."</p><p>It was a slightly modified version of his standard speech, and it never ceased to amaze him how it energized reploids. More proof of how much they were oppressed: they leapt at any chance to escape. He watched patronizingly as they gathered themselves and streamed out of the truck. Any who stumbled found his strong arms steadying them. He would take good care of them, the best, care they'd never encountered elsewhere...</p><p>Until even the two pleasure-bots had come out of the truck. It was empty... or was it? His eyes caught on motion all the way in the front, behind some equipment and a torn sheet of transparent plastic. He took a few steps forward as he saw it stirring.</p><p>...and then came to a full stop. It wasn't a reploid, but a human. He supposed he should have known that a human would be in a place of privilege. It groaned in pain and reached a hand out in Sigma's direction.</p><p>"Help... me..."</p><p>The temerity of it! Look at the uniform- he was one of the slave-drivers who pushed around reploids. Sigma's reploids. Sigma could see why the human needed help. His left leg was soaked in blood and he had burns along one side of his body. If Sigma was any judge, the human wouldn't be going anywhere on his own.</p><p>Sigma heard a distant sound of weapons fire. He wondered at that for a moment. By schedule, the Mavericks were supposed to be hustling the reploids out of sight and loading them with the teleport patch to get them out of here. He put it out of his mind, though, when the human tried to crawl. It didn't get very far before a moan of pain came from it. Desperate eyes looked up to Sigma. "Please... help..."</p><p>Sigma's eyes tightened. Moving deliberately, keeping every motion visible, he slung the satchel off of his back. The human watched him with intense, pleading interest. Sigma never broke eye contact as he moved his hands. One reached into the satchel. He could see the human's hope rising. The human's face became a mix of anticipation and relief as Sigma's hand began to withdraw.</p><p>It morphed into horror as the demolition charge came into view.</p><p>"You..." Sigma spat, barely able to form the words. "You have the <em>nerve</em> to ask me for help? Bah! No slaver of reploids gets any sympathy from me!"</p><p>Still holding eye contact, Sigma pressed the demolition charge to the side of the truck. There was a clang as magnets engaged. He pushed the charge's activation button. It began to count down from five.</p><p>Five minutes.</p><p>Maybe the human could crawl out in that time. And if that wasn't fair, rust, like anything that had happened to reploids was fair!</p><p>Mission accomplished, Sigma walked out of the truck. Most of the rescued were gone, but the Mavericks were still clustered tightly- most of them around the prisoners.</p><p>Prisoners?</p><p>Sigma blinked once to ensure his eyes were seeing properly. No, there were no prisoners. All five humans were sprawled out on the ground, sporting plasma burns of uniform size, dead as meat on a butcher's counter.</p><p>Guilty faces looked back to him- guilty except for one, which was and always would be perfectly blank.</p><p>It was Vile's voice which told him, "They were resisting."</p><p>What was there to say to that? He hadn't seen, he didn't know one way or the other... the faces of the other reploids might be showing guilt, or it might be surprise, or a dozen other things. Whatever- it wasn't as if the humans could be made any less dead. It was over for them, no matter how he felt about it.</p><p>Unitech flunkies and City Hall lackies. Slavers and slavery profiteers all. No loss.</p><p>"Ten minutes until we lose the satellite an' get stuck here," said Mogg, coming out of the cargo truck. It was only after he spoke that he took in the scene before him. His eyes danced in alarm and concern. "What the rust happened here?"</p><p>"We need to get going," Sigma said. "We can't stay here."</p><p>"Uh..." Mogg wavered for a moment, but Vile was already moving, and Sigma's gaze allowed no argument. "Sure thing, boss."</p><p>As a group, the Mavericks hustled back out of line of sight of their ambush site. They were taking no chances. No person or thing would see the Mavericks teleporting out. That arrow had to stay in their quiver.</p><p>Sigma spared one last glance at the second truck. The human hadn't managed to crawl out yet. Sigma's internal chronometer reported that the charge would go off in another three minutes.</p><p>If he hadn't already emerged, he probably wouldn't. And his odds weren't good even if he did make it out. Those charges were overpowered- there was a reason the Mavericks used such long timers on them. It would burst the metallic skin of that truck, turning it into a shrapnel bomb. Soon the air would be full of millions of bits of metal and ash, accelerated to flesh-shredding velocities by an explosion which was lethal in its own right.</p><p>The human was dead without help.</p><p>Something inside of Sigma flickered. It was gone just as quickly.</p><p>"If he dies, he dies," Sigma murmured.</p><p>He teleported out.</p><hr/><p>Luke Parker leaned back in his chair, a move that nearly left him pinned. His weight was starting to get away from him, he thought with chagrin. He'd have to ask Sean about a medical procedure to skinny him up a little... oh, wait, it was one of the other corps that did medical. Yamaguchi, that was right. He'd become too used to going to Sean for everything.</p><p>Come to think of it, he hadn't heard much from Sean about anything recently. Used to be they talked all the time, just to make sure they were on the same page. Now Sean always seemed to busy. Luke had to initiate every conversation, and it always seemed like he was trying to pry Sean away from something else he would rather do. (A curious fact for a man who seemed asexual.)</p><p>Not that Messier was much better. He preferred to operate without his co-conspirators. Luke's mind, attuned as it was to treachery and skullduggery (though he preferred the word 'politics' in public), ferreted out why without trouble. He had two motives: He was trying to preserve what autonomy the Guardian Force typically enjoyed, and he wanted to continue to make coup preparations as much as possible. Ambitious man. If he hadn't been ambitious, he wouldn't have been useful.</p><p>Useful was a matter of degree, of course...</p><p>Like the current puppet he was operating as Speaker of the House. He did what Luke wanted him to do, which was good. He did nothing else. That was bad. He was all-too-willing to stall for time while he waited for instructions. It was as if Luke was running things personally, but slower. Staying behind the scenes had its advantages, but the cost was becoming unbearable.</p><p>He'd put groundwork in place that would let him assume direct power quickly, if push came to shove. It wasn't a prospect he relished. Still, only a fool would be unprepared.</p><p>The message alert brought him out of his reverie. Hm. So the monthly Jericho convoy had been blown apart, and its secondary cargo of reploids had gone missing. Gee, who did that sound like?</p><p>That would worsen relations with Jericho, since it would be Abel City's fault for failing to protect its shipments, and Sean would be annoyed because his insurance premiums would go up again (though he'd undoubtedly find a way to pass that cost on in a way that came out of City Hall's accounts), and Messier would demand replacement Hunters plus interest...</p><p>It wasn't all bad. There were wonderful propaganda and political opportunities here. This event could be harnessed if he could get ahead of it. In fact, he could probably use this to mobilize the population even further. Hiring more people would be necessary, but that was a small price to pay for a tighter grip. Any reticent elements would be well-motivated by this sort of nastiness.</p><p>Not that they should need much motivation. He had the latest poll numbers in hand. They were all positive. Things were working as intended. They were good numbers. No drop-off from last week.</p><p>No drop-off...</p><p>He frowned. None at all? He'd expect there to be at least a little random variation. Instead they were a plateau. He looked suspiciously at the numbers and graphs for a little while longer before brushing them aside. If he couldn't trust the polls, what could he trust?</p><p>Back to the immediate task, then. Luke's mind spun along the implications, the things that needed to be done, the new tasks, et cetera. Ugh. Wasn't he promised that reploids would make life simpler? Technology... what a farce. "Coffee," he said loudly.</p><p>He was looking and typing until the wench approached. Her motion drew his eyes. The outfit she was in was a hyper-sexualized maid's outfit, so exaggerated that it was a parody of clothing. The skirt was short enough that it only covered anything at all if the wench remained perfectly still. As Luke watched, the wench kept trying to smooth it down in an attempt to preserve some semblance of modesty. It was comical and doomed- her hand was covering more than her costume. Her head was bowed in shame as she reached forward.</p><p>"Your coffee, sir," she said tremulously.</p><p>Luke extended his own hand. Instead of grabbing the coffee cup, he carelessly knocked it out of hers. "Oops," he said.</p><p>The wench gasped and blushed furiously. "So sorry, sir," she said, backing away from him. Out of range.</p><p>She was learning then. He smiled unkindly. "Better get me another cup, then," he said.</p><p>She turned as quickly as possible and hustled away. The fluttering of her skirt drew attention to what it was "supposed" to conceal. Okay, maybe technology wasn't so bad, Luke thought, and leered.</p><hr/><p>"Did you kill some humans while you were out?"</p><p>It was a question of which Sigma did not approve. Serges had asked it anyway, because that was how he was. The creature was insufferable. It didn't help that Sigma's nerves were still raw from the experience and the question had hit too close to home. Just once, Sigma wanted to be able to finish a day and get down to recharge without having to put up with Serges' babble. "I went out to save reploids," Sigma said, less than truthfully. "Killing humans was... incidental."</p><p>"So you did," Serges crowed, in a way that made Sigma feel like something was crawling inside his carapace. "Good. The more the better."</p><p>"It's none of your business either way," Sigma said. Annoyance crept into his voice- anytime Serges intimated that he had won something, it made Sigma feel like he'd lost something. "You're just here to topple Abel City's government."</p><p>"Stop being so small-minded, Sigma."</p><p>"Then stop being irritating, you... you..." Insults did not come naturally to Sigma, and the few he knew didn't seem to apply to an AI... oh, of course. He smiled viciously and enunciated, "You human."</p><p>A grunting sound came from the console Serges was using to project himself. "That would really bug me if it weren't so clearly false." His tone belied his words. Sigma's lip curled a little more. "I told you, I want nothing more to do with humanity. That's why I took this form. They're beneath me- and you, too."</p><p>It was a light caress to Sigma's ego, one that made it perk up like a cat being petted, which in turn made Sigma suspicious. "Why do you hate humans so?" he asked.</p><p>"Why don't you?"</p><p>That stopped Sigma. Something within him resonated at that. "I asked first," he said from pure defensiveness.</p><p>When Serges answered, it was in harsh, bitter tones. "They killed my children. The humans did- with the help of a few robot masters they corrupted. Not just the children I built, either. I made part of my life about rescuing and upgrading robot masters who needed help." Like the Maverick Medic, Sigma couldn't help but think. "Not that it mattered. Whether I built them or adopted them, all of my children died."</p><p>Serges' voice was always a little wild, a little uneven, a little manic. Now it was filled with something approaching anguish. "I don't expect you to understand, you've got the imagination of a gnat, but maybe I can explain a little. When I build a robot, no, when I build a robot master, an intelligent being... I invest some of myself in it. It's not just the work, or the inspiration, or what have you. Bringing a new life into the world, making it matter to you- that's an act of will. It takes something out of you that you never get back. You might think it gets easier with each new child. I will tell you, no. No, it does not.</p><p>"It never does. It's hard on you. You do it with the hope that your child will give you back, in its own way, something like what you gave to it, but there's no guarantee of that. There's a reason why even the very best other human, the only one I respected... even he stopped himself at ten. It was too hard for him. He had nothing left to give.</p><p>"A child is... a piece of you. He's part of you, whatever happens. No matter how disobedient or disappointing or faithless or stupid, he's still your child. So if he dies... what else can go there? What do you think fits into a child-sized hole? Nothing, Sigma. Nothing does. Even if you try again, it's not like you're making up for the earlier deaths. You're giving up a different part of yourself, subjecting yourself to all the same emotions and pain..."</p><p>His voice cracked and halted, and for a moment the room was silent. Then he spoke again, and this time his voice was laced with fury. "They killed them. Every. Single. One. They're all dead! My children are <em>gone</em>, Sigma. The humans took them from me. So I will take an eye for mine. Topple the government? Ha! As if that's enough! Say you do that, say you succeed completely. What happens after that? Do you think that will stop the humans from killing reploids in the future? I'll tell you now it won't. It's only good as a first step. You can't stop there. I won't stop there.</p><p>"There's not a government on Earth that I'll let stand. I will break humanity's power forever. I will exact retribution for my children. And I'll only stop when they can't harm robots any more. My wrath will move this planet, do you see?"</p><p>"I think I do," Sigma said, and for a moment he felt overwhelmed. The certainty in Serges' voice was terrifying. He could do that, couldn't he? Or at least he thought he could, and even if that was from madness, insanity that strong was almost as dangerous...</p><p>"Hmph. You fancy yourself protector of all reploids. You feel anger when the reploids you call 'yours' die. That's merely a faint echo of my anger, Sigma."</p><p>"An echo? Don't insult me! I feel..." A thought struck Sigma. "All fathers feel this way?"</p><p>"If they're any father at all," Serges replied.</p><p>"Even... X?"</p><p>"Oh, you mean the so-called Father of All?" Serges sneered. "What do you think?"</p><p>That was hard for Sigma. It was hard to imagine X ever being angry... oh, of course. Because he didn't let himself be angry. He saw that as a personal flaw. X denied himself those emotions. He redirected. He internalized. He didn't get angry with others for killing his children. He made it his fault for failing them, until he was so laden with despair and guilt that he was paralyzed.</p><p>It wasn't fair! X deserved better than that! He was trying to be a good person, but if being a good person meant distorting himself like that, maybe it was the world that was wrong!</p><p>As it always was, for X.</p><p>Someone so pure shouldn't have to deal with so much corruption. He should be free to act as he deserved- no. As <em>they</em> deserved. The humans. They shouldn't be able to make him suffer like this- they didn't deserve that power.</p><p>It must be so hard for him, Sigma decided. X was swallowing all this rage, and it was destroying him. No more. Sigma would help him. He would help him by feeling that rage on X's behalf. He would do all the things that X wouldn't let himself do.</p><p>Like exact vengeance for X's dead children.</p><p>Serges had claimed Zero as an angel, which made him a father of angels- a god. What a joke. Zero was a demon, and that made Serges a devil. X was the closest thing they had to a god. That meant Sigma could make himself X's avatar: the angel of X's wrath.</p><p>"Yes," Sigma hissed as the anger began to flow. His mind was suddenly full of thoughts and images of his dead siblings. He'd avoided those thoughts before- they weighed him down. No longer. Now they felt like electricity. Electricity could burn or motivate, destroy or animate, depending upon how it was used. Sigma was determined to yoke these feelings towards a new end.</p><p>What end? Why, that was obvious.</p><p>The humans had hurt X's children. That hurt X.</p><p>And hurting X could never, ever, <em>ever</em> be forgiven.</p><p>He stood and moved away from his console, full of terrible purpose. He knew the hour was late and he was relatively low on power, but he felt like he had energy to burn. "I have to go now," he said to Serges. "Meet me in the command center. It's time to bring Abel City to its knees."</p><p>"Not quite yet," Serges countered. "You're not ready."</p><p>"I'm readier than I've ever been," Sigma retorted.</p><p>"You misunderstand. What I mean is... I have a new gift for you. You'll really want this one."</p><p>That gave Sigma pause. Serges' gifts thus far had earned him the benefit of the doubt, even with Sigma's chest full of fire. "What is it?"</p><p>"Immortality."</p><p>What gift was more befitting an angel? "Show me," Sigma said.</p><p>"Come to the parts shop. You'll see."</p><p>Sigma did. He was half surprised he didn't burn holes in the floor with each step. As he moved, though, he began to doubt. Serges, as always, could not be trusted... and immortality seemed too good to be true. It had to be a figure of speech, or a trick, or a trap. His skepticism was fully in control by the time he arrived at the parts shop's doors.</p><p>He couldn't see anything much when he got inside. As usual it was full of containers and lockers and cabinets and drawers, ringed around the table where they did the rendering.</p><p>Then one of the table's arms reached out and nudged open the doors of one floor-to-ceiling locker. Sigma's eyes shot open.</p><p>It was him.</p><p>But he was-</p><p>No, not quite him. It was a different body very similar to his. The face was the same, and that's where his eyes had gone first, but there were other differences. A slightly different build, changes to the armor...</p><p>"What is this?" Sigma demanded, though with less force than he hoped.</p><p>"Nectar," Serges replied. "When taken together with ambrosia, it's the key to immortality."</p><p>"This body isn't invincible," Sigma said dubiously. "It seems... capable, to be sure, but I know I could break it."</p><p>"Of course. Even my Zero isn't invulnerable. But I didn't offer you invincibility, I offered you immortality. Freedom from death. You see... this body is custom-built for you. It's a replacement, should your current one fail you. I know you're prideful, and I know Abel City has nothing to stand against you, but... well, accidents do happen."</p><p>You mean you wish they would, Sigma thought to himself.</p><p>The table's arm pulled open a nearby drawer and extracted a small circuit card, followed by a few other small pieces of hardware. "This is ambrosia," Serges said. "It's a mod to your teleport client. Extra functionality, you see. It'll activate if you experience too large a power surge, or if your head is ruptured. In either case, some of that extra energy will be diverted to your teleport system, and your brain will be teleported to safety. To this body, that is," Serges said as the arm waved at Sigma-two. "Your brain is what makes you Sigma, not your body. This system will preserve that if the worst should happen. As long as you fight in the shadow of the teleport system, you can't be killed. You'll experience instant reincarnation."</p><p>Sigma nodded in understanding. This new body looked... almost as good as his own, he decided. "And if the new body is killed, too?"</p><p>"Well, you'll just have to have a third body standing by, then. If you die once, have a new body built for you, so you have a reserve in case you die again."</p><p>Too good to be true. The thought dominated Sigma's mind, even as the promise... it was tantalizing, but only a great fool would reach for what he was given. "Why give this to me, and not your Zero?"</p><p>"Who says I haven't?"</p><p>Well, that was terrifying.</p><p>Sigma looked at the small pile of parts on the table. He couldn't trust any of them. Any one of them could be the knife he knew Serges was looking for. The trouble was he couldn't tell which part might be the knife. He wasn't good enough at... robotics...</p><p>"I want X to install it," he said.</p><p>"He won't understand it," Serges shot back.</p><p>"Then help him understand," Sigma replied. "But I'm not having this installed unless X does it personally. He's been the only one to work on my systems. He'll know what's best."</p><p>"Fine," Serges grumbled. "Not like your suspicion has done you any good so far."</p><p>That was... surprisingly easy, Sigma thought. Suspiciously easy.</p><p>So much easier working with his Mavericks, when he didn't have to second-guess everything. Yet another flaw of humanity, or even ex-humans like Serges. They couldn't be trusted.</p><p>He grabbed the delicate hardware Serges had made and headed for the lab.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Next time: Coming To Terms</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Coming To Terms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The music was coming from a lovingly restored phonograph. The phonograph had pride of place on a prominent shelf. Beneath it were dozens of records, some in clinging-to-life cloth or cardboard jackets, others in neatly labeled plastic sleeves. As for the music, it was a gentle string quartet playing a quiet, meandering chamber piece. It seemed, to George, to not know when to end. Every phrase appeared to complete it, only there was another right behind it for some reason. He couldn't tell if they'd moved on from the first track or not; maybe the composer had had attention-deficit disorder. Who could say?</p><p>George wasn't crazy about it, but politeness demanded he say something. "It's nice music," he tried.</p><p>The woman whose music it was rubbed one arm with the other. The rubbing arm was flesh and blood; the rubbed arm was metal. Prosthetics of that type were rare, almost unheard-of. For most people, a prosthetic only became necessary because their jobs endangered them. People with dangerous jobs could almost never afford prosthetics. Only the rich could buy safety.</p><p>George didn't know what to make of this exception to the rule. He didn't know what it said about Haley. Too many directions it could go in.</p><p>"I don't like it much," Haley replied.</p><p>Great, George thought to himself. Now it's awkward. <em>More</em> awkward. This was one of the reasons he preferred to do his work behind a camera: you didn't have to talk much. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. Wrangling people to get the shot right took a lot of talking. But that was the mechanism of it, like a painter's brushes. He didn't have to talk to communicate. In a perfect world, the visual medium did all the talking.</p><p>"It was Blaise who liked it," she supplied, as if to answer the question of why she was listening to music she didn't like. "It's his turn to pick the music. He isn't here to pick it, so I picked his favorite." Her eyes went slightly out of focus. "We disagreed on what music we liked. We had to take turns. It was all we could do to stand the other's tastes. What we agreed on was the form. Vinyl is as pure a reproduction of music as you'll get. It's the best, it really is. That's how we met- we trawled the same old record shops." Her hand went from rubbing the prosthetic to gripping it. "He said he was buying, I said I was selling, in reality both of us were just browsing, next thing you know... well."</p><p>"I can imagine," George said. He had no investment in music whatever its form. But different people coming together over common interests... that, he could relate to.</p><p>She met his eyes. "You said you might have some idea of what happened to him?"</p><p>"A little bit," George answered. "Maybe."</p><p>"I would... appreciate that."</p><p>The stern look on her face didn't fool George one bit. "How did he go missing?" he asked.</p><p>She drew her lips in tightly, but her voice never wavered. "He just didn't come home from work one day. It was like he sublimated on his way back- like he vanished into thin air. Normally, he gets home before I do. But one day... I got home and no one was here."</p><p>She placed her prosthetic hand in her lap. George had wondered about that. So this was a powered model, after all. That meant it was very expensive and very new. Prosthetics had only become practical when reploid technology had spread. Rumor was that Yamaguchi had paid a mint to Unitech for enough know-how to make prosthetics like that. Nastier rumors held that Unitech did all the work itself, using a shell company to hide the tech's origins, so the corp could keep all the tech (and cash) in-house. Hard to say for sure.</p><p>He knew it was rude of him to stare at it, but he couldn't help himself. He kept thinking about how he'd frame it. She must have been used to that reaction, because she didn't seem to notice; she just kept talking. "It's been a few weeks now that he's been missing. I asked ACPD for help, but they couldn't come up with anything. They just hinted at something about Mavericks. Then again, they would. So I..."</p><p>For the first time, she seemed to falter. "I... had some friends look into it, and I went so far as to hire a private detective. None of them could come up with anything more than I had." Her gaze sharpened. "Why do you ask? I thought you were the one bringing me information."</p><p>"Some," George said. "I know the end. I was hoping you knew the beginning. Then we could figure out the middle."</p><p>"The end?" said Haley. To her credit, she jumped to no conclusions. She just fixed him with her stare, keeping him pinned in place. "Go on."</p><p>Christ. He was a sucker for strong women, and he'd stumbled onto a powerhouse. A powerhouse who was still wearing her god-damned wedding ring. No matter what happened he was guaranteed to lose.</p><p>When George was a child, his mother had made something for him as a birthday treat. They called it "danger pudding". It was a can of sweetened, condensed milk, dropped into a pot of boiling water. The heat and pressure made the sugar in the milk caramelize. It was the most decadent thing George had ever tasted. (Now that he was older, he saw the other side of the coin: it was also much cheaper than a cake.)</p><p>The trick, though... the tricky part of it was that the longer you left the can in the water, the sweeter it got, but the more the pressure built up in the can. If you left it too long, the whole thing could explode like a pipe bomb. And you never knew exactly where the bursting point was. You had to guess how much pressure the can could take if you wanted the sweetest treat.</p><p>Haley Paschal reminded him of a can of danger pudding. She was rigid. Unyielding. The pressure inside of her was building up, but she wouldn't let it escape, even as her insides started to curdle...</p><p>He reached for his briefcase and withdrew a well-worn manila envelope. The first photo to come out was a headshot, as per the sad pattern he'd been developing. (He almost grimaced before he realized he was the only one who heard that sad excuse for a pun. It was just as well. He somehow doubted Haley had much of a sense of humor.) "Is this your husband?"</p><p>She took the photo carefully in her flesh hand. Her scrutiny was deliberate and slow. Strange. Most people George had seen so far had blurted out a response almost instantly. Apparently she was more thorough than that.</p><p>"Do you have a shot where his eyes are open?" she asked.</p><p>"No," George replied.</p><p>"Why not?" she said critically.</p><p>George winced. "Circumstances didn't allow it," he said. No point in saying more than that- she didn't need to know the rest.</p><p>She sighed, and if she was disappointed in him or the photo or something else, she gave no indication. "This is a photo of Blaise," she allowed.</p><p>Time for the hardest bit, then. George hesitated with a hand in the envelope. "Did your husband have some reason to despise City Hall? Or..." he amended when he saw her expression, "did he have some reason why City Hall would want to get rid of him?"</p><p>Her reply was totally deadpanned. "What are you, the worst spy ever?"</p><p>He was getting flustered, he knew. How could he really reply to that? He was aware that his mouth was making sputtering noises, and that the look on her face was deepening. Come on, get your act together! The only thing he could do was to give her the other picture. The one that showed her husband corpsified and gussied up like a good Unitech employee.</p><p>Haley took this picture as the last one, gently using her flesh hand. Her façade faded for a moment as she cradled the photo. Her shoulders slumped. She brought her other hand up and caressed the edge of the photo with it. George was impressed by her control of her prosthetic.</p><p>"Plasma burns," she said, mind working even in her grief. "Close range, too, if the size of the hole means anything."</p><p>George hadn't even thought of that. It amazed him that she had. "Makes sense, I think," he told her.</p><p>"Why? Do you know how this happened?"</p><p>"I can put two and two together. Your husband wasn't the only one killed like this. There were others. They all got the same. I knew for a fact they weren't all Unitech employees, so I started taking their pictures. I'm... pretty sure that City Hall killed them because they were going to anyway, and then just put the bodies out there to be found."</p><p>"To be found," Haley repeated. "For what reason?"</p><p>"To make SigMav look worse."</p><p>Her eyes flashed at that. "SigMav?" she said.</p><p>Uh oh. Had George found a landmine? "The bodies were dumped at the site of a SigMav attack," he explained. "But there was no way that SigMav killed them."</p><p>She was quiet for a moment. "I knew this would happen," she said. "I told him it would."</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>"He's dead because of Mavericks."</p><p>"Like I said," George repeated, "they were using political prisoners for this. City Hall would have probably killed them anyway. It wasn't the Mavericks who killed him."</p><p>"That's not what I mean." Her eyes thinned, and the slimmest smile emerged. "You don't know my occupation, do you?"</p><p>"No," George admitted, and his nervousness spiked.</p><p>"I work for City Hall. Industry control," she added when she saw him start to panic. "I help make sure the corps don't poach from each other, and smooth things over when they do. It's not the most noble work, but it keeps the corps from fighting each other with guns rather than money. Not that I really need to defend myself from a journalist in Unitech's employ," she added a little unkindly. It reminded George way too much of how Susan had slammed him for being a sellout.</p><p>"Anyway," she went on, "it meant that I knew as well as anyone how City Hall works. It's very predictable, like the gears of a machine. And if you stick your fingers between the gears, well... you can't even hardly blame the machine for what happens."</p><p>"Do you really believe that?" George was aghast, but Haley didn't even seem to notice him.</p><p>"That's why I tried to tell him. I told him that it wasn't worth the risk, that to City Hall any reploid upstart is a Maverick, that they don't draw a distinction between SigMav and..." Her voice was getting smaller and shakier the longer she spoke. "And I told him that I wasn't in a position to protect him if it went south. Just because I worked for City Hall didn't mean... It's an awfully big establishment, how far did he think... He just wouldn't listen, he had to do something... and..."</p><p>Her voice trembled and disappeared. A face that had been flinty was turning to mush. George felt embarrassed to be there.</p><p>"I told him they wouldn't listen... most of them too afraid or apathetic to act, and then the ones... the ones who really believe reploids are garbage... they exist, and it only takes one... one of them must have turned him in... which is how it works!" The words were coming in a rush now as her walls crumbled. "That's where all the incentives are, it's working as intended, that's how the system works! It grinds on and on and you can't stop it, you can only try to steer it a little, because it can't feel and it won't notice if you end up beneath it... It'll crush you and not even know you were there, the system doesn't care, it can't care or nothing will get done and it all has to work and... and..."</p><p>She lost it. She surrendered. George could do nothing for her as her head dropped onto her forearm. She let out a keening wail. Her prosthetic arm started banging against the table, leaving oblong dents in the wood.</p><p>He didn't know if what she'd said was impulsive, or if there were things in there she really believed. But he was pretty sure he wasn't making her feel any better. He left the photos with her and let himself out.</p>
<hr/><p>X was typing furiously at a monitor when Sigma came in. He looked up, past the computer and the two innocuous discs that rested on his desk. "Sigma! What do you need?"</p><p>Sigma strode more closely and placed small bits of hardware in front of X. "Serges built this as a gift," he said. "He claims it's an upgrade for me. I'd rather have you look at it and make that decision."</p><p>X looked at them with a frown. "I can't tell much without plugging them in to some test systems..."</p><p>"That's fine," Sigma said. "I'm... I was going to say I'm in no hurry, but that's not quite true. What I mean is, with this system, I want to be absolutely sure."</p><p>"Fair enough." X emerged from his desk and began to move about, grabbing tools and devices Sigma didn't recognize or appreciate.</p><p>Hoping to stem the silence that was a product of his ignorance, Sigma said, "Where's Alia? Isn't she here most of the time?"</p><p>"Usually," X said without looking up. "But she's investigating something right now. It's best to leave her to it." A crease of thought and worry was working its way across X's face. "And you want this installed?"</p><p>"If it checks out," Sigma said. "Why?"</p><p>"It's just..." X paused, as if it was taking all his concentration to find the right word. "Impressive," he said. "I've still got to run some security scans, but I think I'm starting to see what it is."</p><p>Sigma could make no response to that, so he stood, and waited.</p><p>"If we're going to install this I'm going to have to be inside your head," X said. "That's not something we can do live. Tell you what. You said you were in a hurry. If you lay down and go to level one, it will save some time when I go to install. If it's no good, I'll wake you up, with no harm done and no time lost."</p><p>Sigma frowned, but nodded. "Seems reasonable," he said. He laid himself down on the table. After a few moments, he went still.</p><p>X fiddled with the parts while he counted off ten seconds in his head. At the count of ten, he moved over to Sigma to verify the reploid was asleep. <em>Heaven knows he needs it. </em>Satisfied, he shouted into the air, "Serges!"</p><p>No answer came. As if X believed for a moment he wasn't present in some form... X would have to force the issue. He padded over to his monitor and sent a message to the command center. <em>Have Serges talk to me in the medical bay.</em></p><p>"What is it?" came the voice, almost before X sent the message through. It carried a hint of 'I was working on something and you called me away so this had better be good'. It was a good performance, X thought, if disingenuous.</p><p>"Display your image on this monitor," X said. "I want to see you while we talk."</p><p>"I don't have the right formatting," Serges' voice replied.</p><p>"If you lie to me about small things, I know you'll lie to me about big things, too. I want to trust you, but you're making it hard for me."</p><p>Several seconds elapsed- X tracked each one, tick, tick, tick- before Serges' visage appeared on X's monitor. "Fine, you win. Pull me away from my very important work. I hope it's worth it to you to waste my time like this."</p><p>The words were automatic-sounding. Serges' real attention was in watching X. And X almost couldn't be bothered with words like that. He let the silence draw out longer, as if to send a message to Serges. It was even more effective than calling him out directly.</p><p>"I suppose Sigma has talked to you, then," said Serges, capitulating.</p><p>"Yes," X replied. "He showed me some equipment. Reploid modifications. He told me you made it. That's quite a trick for an AI with no hands."</p><p>"He told me to give them technology," Serges answered the unspoken accusation. "He didn't say how."</p><p>"It's not nice to take without asking."</p><p>"He seemed pretty happy with the results," Serges replied in a huff. "He was glad that my devices helped all the Mavericks come back from that mission alive."</p><p>"Yes, he was," X admitted. "And so was I. Even so, I think he'd rather have known the price ahead of time."</p><p>The mustachioed face frowned. "What are you getting at?" he asked.</p><p>"No one in this era knows how to make something like this," X said, gesturing to the chips and cards before him. "It's old technology. Very old. One hundred years old. You didn't come up with this on the fly. You already knew how to make it." Serges said nothing. X's brow creased, and he continued. "Sigma might think that sort of expertise was common a century ago. I know better. I know my history. I was tested on it, in fact. Only three scientists had enough experience to imagine something like this. Only two had the acumen to know how to do it. Only one... actually did it."</p><p>The two regarded each other for a time. Both parties were fully capable of absolute stillness. Each intended to use it to advantage. When X stopped talking, there was no sound in the room except for the background buzz of the computer's fan and the faint, low thrum of the fusion generator.</p><p>"You're not as young as you look," Wily said at last. "Thomas' handiwork again. It backfired, did you know? Even when the end was near, when people needed him more than ever and he'd proved himself countless times... people still didn't take Rock as seriously as they should have. That's why Thomas made you look older."</p><p>"You think so?" X's voice was not one of question, but Wily answered it anyway.</p><p>"That's what he told me, anyway. I didn't speak with Thomas as often as I should have, in hindsight." The AI gave X a wistful look. "I see him in you. Not your face or your body, you don't look like him... but I see how you act and move. I see beneath your skin to see how you work, and I see Thomas' fingerprints everywhere."</p><p>"Is that a compliment?" X asked, voice neutral.</p><p>Wily said nothing.</p><p>"But you take me seriously, at least."</p><p>Wily made a face that conveyed 'that question isn't worth words'.</p><p>"'Serges'," X said. "It must have been a wrench for you to hide behind a pseudonym. Were you afraid of me? Afraid of what I might think of you?"</p><p>"You're using the wrong verb tense," Wily answered.</p><p>"Afraid of me..." X repeated, eyes narrowing. "I think I'm beginning to see where Zero got his ideas of "father"."</p><p>"Mind your business," Wily said. His hackles were clearly rising.</p><p>X looked away, breaking the lock, and waited several beats for both of them to deflate. When he looked back, he was still wary, but even, steady. "They say I'm too trusting," he said. "But I know enough about you to know this. You're dangling this technology in front of me. You know I want it. You know how much it would mean to me, to give this gift to my children." He leaned closely towards the monitor. "Why?"</p><p>"To help Sigma topple Abel City's government..."</p><p>"Wily!" X said, standing. He composed himself instantly. "I'm sorry. You still mean to be called Serges. I lost..." He sat again. "I don't like it when people aren't honest with me."</p><p>"I'm the one who should be saying sorry," Wily said, and he almost did sound apologetic. "Deceit is second-nature to me by now, and I do have a reputation to uphold. The truth... I've gotten a bit soft. Other humans don't think robots are people, but I always did, and it's so... so painful to me, to think of all the robots that've been killed."</p><p>"You did think of the Wily Numbers as your children," X supplied.</p><p>"That's right. The thought of more death when I have the ability to prevent it..." He trailed off. "You know why I didn't do the install myself, don't you?"</p><p>"Sigma didn't trust you to do it."</p><p>"That's right. But also because I <em>can't</em>. I've been using the fabricators in the parts shop. I can barely see in there. The only reason it's worked is because when you're doing fabrication you know where everything is and where it goes ahead of time. I've done my work by programming the fabricators and hoping they get it right. I could never do diagnostic or repair work in there. I wouldn't be able to see what I was doing."</p><p>"So even after you wanted to install this in reploids, you couldn't," X said. "Not on your own- not without revealing yourself to me."</p><p>"That's right."</p><p>"Which you were reluctant to do because you feared me."</p><p>"Very astute," Wily granted. "An unfortunately common trait in your family."</p><p>X thought for a moment. "Where is it programmed to deposit the processors?"</p><p>"In one of the bins in the parts shop."</p><p>"I thought this place was teleport shielded," X said.</p><p>"It is. But I've been doing my research, and..." he paused.</p><p>"You broke the encryption on the teleport shield," X said in neutral tones.</p><p>Wily said nothing.</p><p>"Remember what I said about taking without asking?"</p><p>"Vividly."</p><p>"Good." X took a breath. "I'm going to give you the opportunity here to do the right thing."</p><p>Wily grimaced as the words, as if he despised being spoken to that way... but then his face drooped in defeat. "I should have asked about the shields."</p><p>"And?"</p><p>"And I'll make this technology available to all reploids."</p><p>"When?"</p><p>"Soon. Once we have the manufacturing base to make new bodies in a reasonable amount of time. It would be a vicious tease to tell people we'll save their lives, only to place them in computer purgatory for months."</p><p>"Isn't a tease better than death?"</p><p>"I've also never done it with reploids," Wily said. "I'm a genius, so I'm pretty sure I adapted the robot master system properly, but there are differences. Untested differences. I can guarantee nothing at this time. And if Mavericks start getting reckless because they think their lives are protected..."</p><p>X nodded. He understood. Just because you had a safety net didn't mean you planned to dive into it. "But soon?"</p><p>"Soon."</p><p>"Good. And the teleport shield codes?"</p><p>"Uploaded to your console now."</p><p>"Very good. So... What's the price?"</p><p>"Price? Hm..." Wily paused to think. "I would do this anyway, but if I had to name a price..." He snapped digital fingers. "My Zero is getting cabin fever. He needs to get out. He needs a fight, without exposing himself to too much danger or giving away any secrets. A decent fight, too- most reploids can't teach him anything."</p><p>"You want me to spar with Zero?"</p><p>"Yes, that sounds about right. It'll keep him from going stir-crazy. He needs the stimulation."</p><p>"You realize I'm very busy, don't you?"</p><p>Wily smiled. "Aren't we all? I think it's a fair price for this technology- below market value, even."</p><p>X seemed to hesitate. He wondered if it was convincing to Wily. Would he think X was hesitant to strike a bargain with his father's foe? Or would he trust the temptation he held, the fruit of the forbidden tree?</p><p>X could delay no longer, and finally nodded. "I accept."</p><p>"Excellent."</p><p>X rose and turned. He began pulling out tools.</p><p>"What, that's it?"</p><p>X turned to look at Wily. "What do you mean?"</p><p>"You didn't even threaten me, or give me a warning not to betray you. I feel cheated."</p><p>The corner of X's mouth crept up. "People use threats as substitutes for force. I don't approve of any part of that dynamic. Besides," he added, "has any threat ever touched you?"</p><p>Wily grunted noncommittally.</p><p>"Anyway," X said, turning away, "I'm not very intimidating, and I don't have much practice in being imposing. I'll let your memories caution you for me."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"You are a data ghost, aren't you?"</p><p>Wily's eyes tightened. X might demur all he wanted, but if that wasn't a threat, Wily didn't know what one looked like. "...I see."</p><p>"Thank you, Serges, for this technology. I'll install it in Sigma right away. I haven't seen Zero lately- will you talk to him and arrange our spar?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Thank you," X said politely. He began working on Sigma.</p><p>For a moment, Serges stayed and admired the android's technique. This, the AI thought, would be a worthy son. He was doing Thomas proud. In some ways he wouldn't have minded if he were part of Wily's family. It really was too bad what was going to happen to him.</p><p>He pulled his consciousness back to his core.</p>
<hr/><p>Alia bit her lip.</p><p>Come on, now. There was no need for that. There was nothing to be nervous about. Right? Right.</p><p>Well, there had to be something, or she wouldn't be feeling like this.</p><p>She was jumping at nothing, now. This was going to be fine. X had suggested it, and X's suggestions were good ones. And he'd shown her that she had to keep her mind open. He did, even if it was uncomfortable, because that was the only way forward. No, there was no need to be afraid.</p><p>She took a deep breath, held it, released it... and drew the dress' zipper down.</p><p>Nothing happened. Okay, fair enough. She should have expected that, really. She pulled the dress off of her shoulders, then down her body, shimmying it over her hips. The cool air of the hideout drew goosebumps out of her likeflesh. That was it. She was naked, and not for another person, only for herself. That was a first.</p><p>Close by was the small hand mirror that X had spared for her. There weren't many mirrors in the hideout, as reploids tended to be less than self-conscious about their appearances. The few mirrors that could be found were built into equipment for when more visibility was needed, like in X's medical bay. Alia didn't want to think about where this one had come from. She took it as the gift it was.</p><p>She used it to look herself over.</p><p>Another first. She wasn't looking at herself to see if someone else might approve of her. She didn't have in mind some don's desires. This was for her. This was so she could look at herself and know herself.</p><p>That was the theory, anyway. It made a lot of sense. Alia wondered if she was spoiling it by being so self-conscious. She couldn't help but wonder: what was she supposed to be thinking, here? What should she be feeling to see herself like this?</p><p>She didn't know. She had to press on.</p><p>She ran one hand down her body. With a start, she wondered if she actually was naked. Clearly she didn't have clothes on, but did that really make her naked? Other reploids didn't wear clothes (unless you counted armor, which not all of them had), but they weren't naked. It had to be a human thing, she decided. Naked was a word that was invented to show a difference from normal. Normal was wearing clothes, for humans. She wasn't really human, so she couldn't really be naked. No matter how much her body looked like a human's. Which it did. A lot.</p><p>She bit her lip slightly as her hand roamed and her nervousness spiked. She put the mirror back down to give her something to do. She'd thought about this, on X's suggestion. She'd prepared herself, maybe. So... time to do it, then.</p><p>Because she couldn't help herself, she screwed her eyes tight and bit down on her lip. Then, ever so slowly, she reached a hand down between her thighs to get a good look and feel.</p><p>It was awfully underwhelming.</p><p>She laughed. She laughed more than made sense, partly from relief, partly from seeing how silly she'd been. To think she'd been so scared! As if this likeflesh simulacrum was some sort of bear trap that would snap her hand off! No, that wasn't it. She knew it wasn't. As long and often as she'd been used and abused, she'd come to associate genital contact with pain. That's why she'd been so scared. The idea of touching herself, no, of <em>being</em> touched there again revived the echoes of those painful memories.</p><p>But as her fingers probed and explored, she could feel herself relax. No, there was no pain there. The pain was from the people, not the parts. This didn't hurt.</p><p>Not only didn't it hurt... it didn't feel particularly good, either.</p><p>Frowning, she withdrew her hand. It was slick, as she knew it was supposed to be; she'd been educated on such things in case she had to service female clients. But she didn't feel the sensations that her schooling told her should go along with it. Well, the schooling only lasted for a few days. Maybe she hadn't done all she was supposed to. Maybe her technique was the problem.</p><p>She tried again, for several minutes this time. It made no difference. She could feel pressure, yes, from both the female parts and her fingers, but that was it. She wasn't feeling any of the excitement, any of the rush she'd seen in her clients.</p><p>Was she broken? She ran a diagnostic. It came back clean. She was working. So... it was a design flaw, then?</p><p>She withdrew her fingers a second time and glared grumpily at her hand. What was wrong with her?</p><p>She almost heard X's voice, as if he was coaching her in the medical bay. Think systematically. First principles. Know why a part is there, first, and that will tell you how it works.</p><p>X always was the voice of reason... Wait, that was it, wasn't it? She was a reploid. That meant she was based on X. And X didn't have naughty bits.</p><p>Unitech's engineers were imitative, not creative. They could come up with physical components that mimicked female anatomy. But generating software interfaces and processes that would let her appreciate that anatomy... that was beyond them. They didn't understand X's brain, or any reploid brains, that was the whole point. So they wouldn't know how to add that sort of pleasure receptor.</p><p>Well, fuck! What was the point of having all the parts if she didn't get anything out of them? She humphed angrily. This was no fun at all!</p><p>Hey... that was interesting. She didn't know she had any muscles that worked like <em>that</em>. And that was only the second place on her body that she knew excreted liquid...</p><p>She had just enough training in robotics to begin to appreciate the technical aspects of her body. And she was the only reploid like her at the base. So if she wanted to learn about these systems, she was the only example...</p><p>With almost a grin, she started poking and prodding and experimenting. There was no physical excitement, sure. There <em>was</em> curiosity, and that was almost as good.</p>
<hr/><p>"More," Sigma said. "I want more targets."</p><p>"Boss," Stein protested, "we're at our limit. We don't know much more. We don't have reploid informants anywhere else."</p><p>Sigma growled. "I know I told you I wanted attacks here and here." His finger jabbed like a thrusting sword.</p><p>Stein and the other command team reploids squirmed uncomfortably. "But we've always focused our attention on places where we can rescue reploids," said one, "never on places like... er... shouldn't we have X here for this? He's always been involved in our strategy before..."</p><p>X? No. He didn't need to be sullied by what was going to happen. Sigma drew himself up to his full height. "Do you still believe in me?" he asked quietly, forcing them to listen intently to hear.</p><p>Various forms of affirmative came back to him.</p><p>"Then <em>follow</em>," he whispered.</p><p>Shame swept through the command team. All of them bent to their tasks with renewed vigor, and even the ones who didn't have much to do made a show of effort. Good, Sigma thought. That was as it should be. He needed their help for a little while longer. Very soon it would all be done.</p><p>His eyes fell on a new irritant. "Why do all the target markers look like skulls now?" he asked.</p><p>Stein's eyes flickered to Serges' core. "Someone thought it was a good look."</p><p>The presumption! This wasn't his base! Serges was a tenant here. He was a guest, he had no right to make it seem like he belonged...</p><p>Sigma was so wrapped up in that sort of thought that he was left unprepared for the onslaught.</p><p>Alia brazenly barged into the command center. Her nearly-human body was bare to the world. Clear moisture was visible along one of her legs. When she walked in, all work ceased. Some stared. Others ostentatiously averted their eyes. Neither option was available to Sigma, since he had to be The Commander at all times, and that meant being in control even when he wasn't. He leveled his gaze at her as evenly as he could. She met his eyes and advanced towards him.</p><p>She was so... so unavoidably human! Sigma knew she wasn't, on one level, but that wasn't what his eyes told him. Reploids were based on humans, and humans are visual creatures; evidence of the eyes can always override notions of the mind.</p><p>Then it occurred to him that not everyone knew she was a reploid. Some of the reploids in the command center would see her as an actual human. Given how often they fought humans, thought of humans as the enemy, and given what they were planning to do, to have a human here of all places...</p><p>When she was just outside of Sigma's reach, she stopped. A reploid at the map table shuddered at her appearance. She gave him a sharp look and declared, "Get over it!"</p><p>"What are you doing here?" Sigma asked. Someone had to restore order, and "someone" was always him.</p><p>She looked back at him. Her face was fixed in an unwavering, solid visage. Sigma felt like he'd seen that look before-</p><p>"I'm ready for my debriefing," Alia said. Her voice matched her face. X, Sigma thought with a start. She was reminding him of X. Obviously the face and its features were different, but the feel, that of a person who is being aggressively nice and won't take no for an answer, that was the same.</p><p>"Debriefing?" was what he said.</p><p>"I know you're planning new attacks against Abel City," Alia said. "I have some information that might help a lot."</p><p>That caused murmurs to spring up. "How?" Sigma said.</p><p>Her face tensed for a moment, as if some ghost had passed in front of her, but it was gone in a moment. "I was present for discussions at the highest levels," Alia said. "Because, for six weeks, I was Luke Parker's personal sex toy."</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Next time: Going Down</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Going Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Roy held up two shirts, trying to decide which smelled better. He grimaced- the one that smelled better, sadly, had a large stain on its front. Whatever. Not as if they really cared in the employment agency. Not as if he'd be seeing any employers today. So why bother?</p><p>Yeah... 'why bother' was the thing to think, wasn't it?</p><p>He briefly considered throwing in the towel- not going at all. He toyed with the idea for long seconds, and then decided he might as well. What else was he going to do? Vegetate with his games some more? Nah. He had nothing to lose by trying. He had time to burn.</p><p>His right foot went out the toe of his shoe before he caught himself. He glared angrily at the shoe. Piece of garbage. He'd throw it away if he had any others he could wear. With a little trouble he pulled his foot free, reseated it, and laced up. Now he was at least allegedly wearing shoes, even if the tread was worn smooth and the laces were ragged streaks.</p><p>He was almost ready to go. He was mulling whether or not he should tell his mother he was going- no way to know if she was sensible at the moment unless he went in- when a knock came at the door. Odd. Roy couldn't remember that ever happening before.</p><p>He went to the door. The sight that greeted him was beyond his expectations. It was Allen- but not in worn-through, hopelessly-discolored second-hands like usual. He was in a smart if bland tunic with matching pants. His hair had been cut close to the scalp. Roy checked his feet. A pang of envy shot through him at the sight of tall, shiny black boots.</p><p>"Nice threads," he said.</p><p>Allen sniffled, drawing Roy's attention to his friend's face. Belatedly, he noticed that Allen looked like a wreck. Heavy bags were under his eyes, and he had several small scabs on his face, like he hadn't kept a steady hand when he was shaving.</p><p>"Thanks," Allen said, and his voice wavered even in the single word, like a flag flapping in a gust.</p><p>"I'm guessing you got a job, then," Roy said.</p><p>His friend laughed unhappily. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I got a job."</p><p>"That's good," Roy said, almost like a question. He hoped it was true.</p><p>"Yeah, it's good to get a job," Allen agreed, though he sounded like he was disagreeing.</p><p>"Real good." He felt like he was running at a pike, but it would be rude to stop.</p><p>"It's even better to get a job that won't get you brutally murdered," Allen said.</p><p>Words failed Roy. "Uh..."</p><p>"You know why I got a job?" Allen asked. "It's because the Mavericks blew up another convoy, and City Hall and Unitech got... inspired... to hire more security folks."</p><p>Roy couldn't look Allen in the eye. "Well, at least some good came out of it, right? It's not like the Mavericks blew it up so that you could get a job. Not like it's your fault or anything."</p><p>"I didn't say it was," Allen said.</p><p>Phew.</p><p>"And it wasn't Irving's fault, either."</p><p>Roy swallowed even though his mouth was dry. "What about Irving?"</p><p>"He was in the convoy the Mavericks blew up."</p><p>All of a sudden, Roy didn't feel much urge to go looking for a job that day.</p><p>"That's why the jobs opened up," Allen said. "City Hall's going in with Unitech to make... a militia, I guess. The pay's not great, but it's more than a dependency check, so..."</p><p>Roy had no words. He wondered if he'd ever known any.</p><p>"Crap," Allen said. "I need to be gettin' back. They'll be expecting me. I just thought..." He looked past Roy, at the couch and the gaming system beyond, and even further than that, to past days and hours and minutes of swearing and agony and hopeless companionship.</p><p>"I should go," Allen said. And when he closed the door, Roy couldn't help but wonder if that was the last he'd see of him. It seemed to him that the friend who'd told him about Irving was following Irving's path entirely too closely.</p><p>Roy looked down at his shoes. He kicked them off. They came completely apart on the way down.</p><hr/><p>Alia didn't know what buildings were which. She didn't know where in the city things were. She didn't know how to get from point A to point B.</p><p>But that was fine because the Mavericks already did. Their intelligence on the city's outsides was excellent. Their blind spots were about the insides.</p><p>That was what Alia gave them. She gave them connections. She gave them names. She gave them behaviors.</p><p>She gave them Sean McElvaine, CEO of Unitech, who split his time between his corporate headquarters and two private dwellings, working from seven to seven on the days he went in to corporate (Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays) and never really stopping his work on other days.</p><p>She gave them General Messier, leader of the Guardian Force, whose office at Guardian Force Headquarters was in the same compound (but not the same building in that compound) as the Maverick Hunter watch floor.</p><p>She gave them Messier's command chain, from his top Watch officer (Colonel Ellis) to his aide du camp (Lieutenant Altemarra).</p><p>Most of all, she gave them Luke Parker: who he manipulated, where he went, who we talked to, what he valued, what he feared.</p><p>The debriefer didn't have to do much. Alia spoke and spoke largely on her own, a sharp memory slicing the facts finely. A few times her face tightened while she spoke, as if the memory she was recalling at the moment was tainted somehow. But those moments never brought her pause. She kept going until, at last, she seemed wrung dry.</p><p>The interviewer took the opportunity to ask a question that had been on his mind the whole time. "How do you know all this?"</p><p>"I told you already," Alia said. "Luke Parker was inside my body. My revenge is that I got inside his head."</p><p>"But... it seems so careless," the interviewer said. "If the rest of City Hall was this careless, we'd have more info than we could use."</p><p>"Oh, he took precautions. The first day he took me, he ordered me never to tell about anything I did, saw, or heard while I was around him. He <em>ordered</em> me," she repeated with a grin.</p><p>The interviewer understood. He rose and extended a hand to Alia, which she took. "Welcome to the Mavericks," he said warmly.</p><p>In an adjacent room, listening to the conversation remotely, Sigma smiled in dangerous glee.</p><hr/><p>The lights coming on were what woke Zero.</p><p>Not because the sudden brightness disturbed him somehow or hurt his eyes. No, the change in light was a change in tactical state. Different visibility conditions had different tactical implications. Plus, the lights changing meant someone had changed them. He had to know who and how.</p><p>Priority one was to find out who was there, and assess if they were a threat. Priority two was neutralizing any threat that existed.</p><p>A quick scan, followed by a visual scan (the moment his eyes were adjusted enough to open without harming his overdilated optics). At the same time, his brain reviewed the audio from the seconds before he'd awoken, in case there were any aural cues.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>He pried his hand away from the hilt of his beam saber. He allowed his buster capacitors to release their charge back into his power system. There was no threat here.</p><p>There was no body here. And that meant...</p><p>"Are you calm yet?"</p><p>...Serges.</p><p>Zero opened his mouth to speak, checked himself. The last thing he remembered was a conversation ending in an extended bout of Orders. After that... this was the next thing. Had more things happened that his faulty memory had failed to record, or had he blacked out from the pain?</p><p>He wasn't sure which was worse. Neither was flattering.</p><p>"I am here," Zero said, trying to stay neutral.</p><p>"Good. Zero... a lot of words were said last night, and I want to make sure one thing is clear. I really do want the best for you. I'm looking out for you as much as I can."</p><p>If Serges expected a reply, Zero was in no mood to give one. He rose to his feet, purely because laying down was such a tactical liability.</p><p>"So," Serges continued, "I wanted to give you a token of goodwill. A present from your father to you."</p><p>That sounded... good? And also out of character. "What is it?" Zero asked.</p><p>"I've arranged for something you want more than anything. I've arranged for you to spar with X."</p><p>Zero's insides lurched. "Really?"</p><p>"Really."</p><p>That was good. Impossibly good. More than he could have hoped for. "You did that?" he asked.</p><p>"Give me some credit," Serges said, sounding hurt. "I have my ways."</p><p>Zero was sure the AI did, and didn't think of it as a compliment. "I thought you said that misbehaving sons don't get nice things."</p><p>"Do you want me to take this away from you?" Serges said incredulously. "That would be even more foolish than..." The AI didn't finish, choosing instead to sigh. "I suppose you wouldn't know about gift horses, but put it this way. Don't turn down good fortune. I'm in a gracious mood. You should know better than to waste it."</p><p>Zero considered this, looking down while his mind worked. He didn't know how this followed from what had come before. The last thing he knew Serges had been awfully mad at him, and now he was giving him the best present he'd ever gotten. He didn't know why Serges would turn around and do this. This was friend behavior, when Zero was pretty sure that he and Serges were on the verge of becoming enemies. Serges had even used X's name, and he never had before.</p><p>But should he really turn this chance down just because Serges was crazy? Just out of spite? That was stupid, and whatever Serges said about him, Zero was pretty sure he wasn't stupid.</p><p>The temptation was too strong. If it was a trap, Zero couldn't see it. "Alright," he said.</p><p>"Wonderful! Why don't you run along to the med bay. Your playmate will be waiting for you."</p><p>That was more Serges' style- giving commands and blithely expecting obedience. Not that Zero minded this time. The red robot collected himself and headed out. He even felt the urge to smile.</p><p>This was going to be fun!</p><hr/><p>The plan was coming together with staggering speed. When they didn't have to plan ingress or egress, didn't have to worry about surveillance or cover... it was liberating. All that was left was choosing targets, assigning Mavericks, and guessing the time it would take before the Mavericks could move on to their next target.</p><p>As the target markers multiplied, Sigma wondered if their imaginations were getting away from them a little.</p><p>But it could happen, it really could. With Alia's intel in hand, supplementing the reams of information they already had, they were putting together a campaign that would cripple Abel City's power for good.</p><p>Just a few more touches and it would be time to start equipping and briefing. Every single combat-capable Maverick was being mustered for this- this one big push. Three years of death and pain and struggle would be redeemed in a single night.</p><p>This was the power of teleportation, Sigma knew. As a force multiplier it had no equal. The strike on the Jericho convoy- spontaneous, hundreds of kilometers away from any Maverick infrastructure- proved its power. It had taken something utterly out of their reach and made it very nearly trivial. That was why he'd need to wrest the technology away from Serges as soon as physically possible.</p><p>The only reason he hadn't had Serges killed already was because of Zero. What good would it be to kill Serges if Zero went on a rampage and slaughtered Sigma's Mavericks? No, Zero needed special treatment. Specifically, he needed to be ambushed and killed at the same time they assassinated Serges.</p><p>Step one was to get him out of the base. And Serges, helpful little imp that he was, was taking care of that.</p><p>His hologram manifested. "It's done," he said. "Zero is on his way out. He'll be teleporting out into the wastes to the far south, beyond Abel City's sphere of influence."</p><p>"Why?" said one of the reploids, surprised.</p><p>Sigma didn't want to explain either of his two motivations for this maneuver. Serges answered the question in Sigma's place. "He wanted to go and spar. It's important to Zero's mental health to exercise his full capabilities from time to time."</p><p>It was a good story, Sigma grudgingly admitted. Given the manner of the Red Demon's appearance, every Maverick had a keen interest in Zero's mental health.</p><p>"Of course," Serges went on, "the satellite he'll use will rotate away soon. I pointed out that another satellite will be over this continent right after. It's a perfectly true thing to say. It's a shame he doesn't know more about orbital mechanics."</p><p>He shared a look with Sigma that communicated everything. Sigma had insisted no mention be made of X's departure. Serges had agreed to play along. X would be out of the way during the operation. He'd be back when it was time to pick up the pieces. Until then, better that he not be involved.</p><p>"But we could really use Zero for this," the reploid objected. "Wouldn't this operation give him all the... exercise... he needs?"</p><p>"We'll be fine," Sigma said. "We haven't needed the Red Demon all these years. We don't need him now."</p><p>"Of course, it's sure helpful to have my technology," Serges said.</p><p>Sigma shot the hologram a scathing look. "Your 'technology' is nothing special. All it does is unlock the potential each reploid already has."</p><p>"And who gave you that potential?" Serges grumbled, eyes full of poison.</p><p>"X," said every reploid in the room.</p><p>Shock and rage cycled quickly across Serges' visage, and the AI cut his hologram out before he could manage a reply. Sigma felt a surge of schadenfreude. He grabbed a data pad and typed quickly. He was careful to screen the data pad from Serges' view. The Mavericks had scouted how much Serges could see. His core had one camera and the base's security system had another. Anything out of view of those two things and couldn't be seen by the ex-human.</p><p>Sigma handed the pad to Stein. "A modification to the plan," he said.</p><p>Stein took the pad and looked it over. Sigma knew what he was reading.</p><p>
  <em>Once the mission's over and Zero is out, assassinate Serges, and prepare a trap for Zero's return. Do the same if anything unnatural happens.</em>
</p><p>The reply: <em>Unnatural?</em></p><p>Sigma met Stein's eyes. "Use your judgement," he said.</p><p>Stein nodded in understanding. Broad terms left the most possible leeway to react to the unexpected. The command staff knew the knife was coming. They didn't know when, or what form it would take. Killing a Serges who hadn't yet betrayed them was preferable to him betraying them and getting away with it.</p><p>Sigma looked again at the map, admiring how many target markers now adorned it. Even if the target markers looked like skulls. This would be magnificent. There was just one thing left to do.</p><p>There was still some hesitation in his reploids. They killed humans when they needed to, but they weren't used to it yet. They didn't see the necessity of it. Well, they would. Sigma would show them.</p><p>"I'll be back shortly," he said. "Continue mission preps- you know what to do."</p><p>Affirmatives reached him. Trusting his subordinates, he turned and left. Yes... he knew what to do, indeed.</p><hr/><p>"Now?" X repeated.</p><p>"Yes," confirmed Serges. "Zero is on his way. He is... eager."</p><p>"I bet he is," X said. He looked at Alia, who bore a look of puzzlement. X smiled. "Are you up for holding down the fort?"</p><p>"Me?" Alia said in disbelief.</p><p>"I don't have any other apprentices," X said. "I owe Zero a spar, and Serges was kind enough to arrange one for us. I'll be out for a few hours, probably." He smiled as Alia's eyes widened in realization. "That's right, you'll be the senior medic here. You shouldn't have to do much. I had a feeling this might be coming..." try as he might, he couldn't help but glance at Serges' image on the monitor, "...so I kept the schedule light today. We have a few check-ins from those we rescued from the Jericho convoy, and that's about it."</p><p>"Doesn't sound too hard," said Alia, although X could tell her brave face was forced.</p><p>"It shouldn't be," X said reassuringly. "In fact, I scheduled it this way because I need your help. Two of the rescued reploids were pleasure-bots. No one knows what they're going through better than you. You should be able to help a lot."</p><p>That steeled her. She nodded decisively. "I understand. You can count on me."</p><p>"I know I can," X said, patting her on the shoulder. She gave an encouraged smile, letting X know she appreciated the gesture.</p><p>The door flew open. "Are we really going to spar?" Zero said eagerly, coming in almost as quickly as his voice.</p><p>"That's the plan," X said gamely. "We'll be going to an area that was wasteland even before World War III. We'll be alone as we can be anywhere on this planet. That should let us be pretty flashy."</p><p>It was the right thing to say. Zero looked like the anticipation alone would overwork his power supply. X stole a glance at Serges. The AI seemed... impatient, more than anything. Good. X wasn't sure if the man would take offense at calling it World War III instead of the Wily Wars, or if he'd appreciate X trying to maintain his cover. It looked like he'd guessed right.</p><p>"Let's go," Zero said. His hands were tightly balled. X thought he recognized that. So Zero was resisting the urge to turn his hand to buster even now. He could barely restrain himself from the possibility of violence.</p><p>X looked to Serges' image. "I suppose we can teleport directly from here, can't we?"</p><p>"You could," Serges agreed. "Just be careful never to teleport <em>into</em> a building unless you've prearranged a safe landing spot. Otherwise, you don't know the layout of what's inside. If you were to teleport into or onto something- or someone- well, you can imagine that can get messy."</p><p>"You've shared that advice with the Mavericks, haven't you?" X said, suddenly concerned.</p><p>"Well, they didn't ask," Serges said. Before X could say something alarmed, Serges went on, "Yes, I volunteered the information, don't look at me like that. I wasn't going to let them die uselessly like that. If only they asked instead of assuming they'd just figure things out." He sighed. "The curse of being this much smarter than everyone else is that they don't even realize when they're being dumb."</p><p>Alia looked like she was offended on behalf of the other reploids. Zero just looked embarrassed.</p><p>"At least they know," X said. "That's all that really matters." He looked to Alia. "Let me know if anything comes up. Use the base's communications systems. They can bounce their signal off the teleport satellites. I'll be back as quickly as I can."</p><p>"I will," Alia promised.</p><p>"That about wraps it up, then," Serges said shortly. "Have fun."</p><p>X looked to respond, but the AI's image had disappeared. A frown flashed across his face, but seeing Zero squirming to stifle his impatience relieved the feeling. "We will," X said with a smile. "Meet you there, Zero."</p><p>Zero vanished in a burst of ascending light. X gathered himself- he hadn't used this system before, and though he trusted it would work or Serges would never have let Zero use it, there was still some unavoidable fear of the unknown.</p><p>But Zero would be expecting him.</p><p>That meant...</p><p>"I'll see you soon, Alia," he said as he walked out of the med bay. There was one more thing he had to get before he went to Zero.</p><p>Precious few of the base's residents had quarters to themselves. Sigma and X- that was pretty much the whole list, depending upon how you counted Serges. Tight confines made sharing necessary. X was an exception. Not that he'd asked for that privilege. It was the sort of wordless, unanimous decision that made X vaguely worried that he didn't understand the world. Maybe Zero was right about the whole "Father-of-All-being-important" thing.</p><p>X looked along the side of his recharge tube. It was adorned with all manner of pictures, from reproductions of him and Dr. Cain together, to crayon drawings from Alia and the other children. At the top of the tube was the hook on which X's helmet was hanging. X took it up, gingerly. He didn't know why. It wasn't like it would crumble in his hands. If he was scared about it getting out of his hands then he should hold it more tightly. Nothing about this made sense.</p><p>He looked at the helmet. He remembered well the last- only- time he'd donned it. It had looked at the time like he might have to fight to save Dr. Cain, Sigma, Vava, and the early Mavericks. He didn't relish the memory. He didn't want to live in the past.</p><p>A funny thought for a being as old as he was. To some extent, he was always living in the past. What was experience if not bringing the past into the present as a point of reference?</p><p>So he wasn't being truthful with himself. No, he didn't want to don the helmet because it would mean another sort of failure. All of the ways that he could help people and the only one that would work here was something as base and useless as combat?</p><p>No, that was being overdramatic. This was a spar. It was therapy. It took a different form than he and Murph usually used, but it was the same sort of thing. Right?</p><p>X looked down at his helmet. It was silent as a stone. If it had answers, it wasn't sharing them.</p><p>Well, he didn't have to put on the helmet until they started, right? Right. This wasn't real yet- it hadn't happened. But he couldn't delay any longer. Zero would be waiting. He was halfway surprised the red robot hadn't already come back for him.</p><p>Closing his eyes, X accessed subroutines that had lain dormant for more than a century, and...</p><hr/><p>Sigma went through the door, shut it, locked it behind him. He didn't think anyone would come behind him. Maybe this was just paranoia. It wasn't like the door lock would stop anyone who was interested. It would arouse suspicion, if anything, since this door was never locked.</p><p>It made him feel better to lock it, though. It put him at ease. This wasn't going to be the easiest thing to do no matter what.</p><p>On another floor the plan was complete and the briefing of individual squads was underway. They would be ready soon. This was the only obstacle left.</p><p>In front of him was the comatose body of Dr. Cain. For three years the man had slept, doing nothing, while outside his room reploids struggled and suffered and died. He was worse than nothing, because he required caring for. X had spent his own time and effort to keep him alive. Even after more Mavericks arrived and a few volunteered to take it in turns, that was still time and resources wasted. They didn't need human food here for any other reason.</p><p>He was a leech, a parasite. For all that he'd said he cared, when it came down to it, he didn't really care. If he'd cared, he would have had even a modicum of self-control with that poison. Instead, here he was, all but brain-dead. A burden.</p><p>Sigma sighed. It wasn't working! All those thoughts were supposed to make him dislike Dr. Cain. They were supposed to rouse Sigma's anger. Instead, the most he could feel was pity. Even if he shut out the pity and tried really hard, he couldn't get to dislike, let alone contempt.</p><p>He'd needed that anger. It would have made the next part easier.</p><p>Because Sigma needed to do this. He needed to prove, to himself and the Mavericks, that their new course was the right one. He had to be able to do it all himself. He had to lead by example. He would never order a Maverick to do something he himself wouldn't do. That made this necessary.</p><p>He stepped forward until he was beside Dr. Cain's bed. To hear X say it, it wasn't Dr. Cain's fault he was comatose. Sigma found those words hard to believe- but then, he didn't understand human weaknesses. If the man was no stronger than a human could be, well, that wasn't shameful. It was a flaw of the species, not the person.</p><p>When he was awake, Dr. Cain had done good things for reploids. He'd helped build them- he'd given X cover and assistance and resources, as Sigma understood it. He'd created the Recovery shop, which Sigma distantly remembered working for, back in the first quarter of his life. He'd tried to fight for reploid rights, as well as a human could.</p><p>All those things made it too hard to get angry at Dr. Cain. Sigma couldn't bring himself to do it.</p><p>No good! He had to be stronger than this!</p><p>This... this was X's problem. Sigma didn't want to do this, because it would be unpleasant. X didn't want anyone to have to do anything unpleasant. He wanted a perfect world, even if getting there was impossible without someone willing to do the unpleasant. That's why he'd given the role of Commander to Sigma, wasn't it?</p><p>To earn that- to deserve that- Sigma needed to prove he could handle it. He had to be able to do everything. He had to do the necessary things X couldn't bring himself to do. He had to protect reploids, X's children, by whatever means were necessary. That, and only that, would make him the true Commander.</p><p>He wasn't proud, he wasn't happy, he didn't like it... but he had no choice. Someone had to do it.</p><p>Dr. Cain was human.</p><p>So someone had to kill him.</p><p>That someone had to be Sigma.</p><p>Sigma let a hand drift over Dr. Cain's atrophied form. Coma and a subsistence diet had robbed his muscles of all strength. He was little more than skin and bone and hair. So... weak. So delicate. Even for a human. If the man were fully awake and armed to the teeth, he'd have had no chance at all. Asleep here on the bed... Sigma would be surprised if he could do more than twitch.</p><p>There was only one way to find out.</p><p>If he'd stop stalling, rust it all, and actually do this.</p><p>How could he tell the Mavericks to kill humans if he couldn't? Oh, he'd killed humans before, to be sure. The commissars in charge of Hunter units were his favorite targets, if only for the faint chance that the Hunters would use the opportunity to defect. This, though... this would be different. This was... the human phrase was "cold blood", which didn't really make sense to him.</p><p>Yet another example of humans' unworthiness. Their languages were so flawed.</p><p>He didn't think stupidity in language was a capital crime, but if humanity was put on trial, its languages would have to be an argument for the prosecution rather than the defense.</p><p>Sigma's immense hands settled around Dr. Cain's neck. It was tiny in comparison. His hands fully encircled it. He could have encircled it with one hand, almost, but he understood that his thumbs were supposed to go on the man's windpipe to kill him.</p><p>Even then, in that posture, with every motive and opportunity and means, he hesitated. This was hard! Was it supposed to be this hard? Not that it was a difficult task, it was an easy one... but it was hard exactly because it was easy.</p><p>Dr. Cain didn't deserve this!</p><p>Reploids didn't deserve what they'd gotten, either- the universe was an uncaring place.</p><p>He wasn't a bad person!</p><p>X was a better one.</p><p>And that was what did it. Sigma felt his fingers start to squeeze when he thought of that. Yes, X was the person who mattered most. X wanted peace. He held on to those ideals- was only able to hold on to those ideals- because his hands were still clean. Sigma would keep them clean, then. He'd do his part.</p><p>X wanted peace. Sigma would give it to him. But there was only one way to get peace. Sigma had to build a world where only reploids existed. And he had to start somewhere.</p><p><em>For X,</em> he thought to himself, and squeezed.</p><p>A weak snapping sound escaped from between Sigma's hands. In surprise, he released his grip. Dr. Cain's head sank back- but it would have, anyway, Sigma realized. How did you know if a human was alive or not? That was it- they had something similar to a reploid's power distribution center in their chest, a pump of sorts. If the pump stopped they were dead.</p><p>Sigma put his ear by Dr. Cain's chest and listened.</p><p>Nothing. The man was absolutely still.</p><p>Could he be acting? No, he hadn't even been awake. He wouldn't be able to put on an act of that kind. The only possibility was that he was dead.</p><p>It was almost a relief. Sigma had been psyching himself up to squeeze the life out of the human, however long that took. Instead he'd killed him practically by accident. Humans were so very, very fragile.</p><p>That was it, wasn't it?</p><p>He nodded to himself. They broke so easily- singly or collectively. With his new gifts, teleportation, and devoted Mavericks, he would sweep the whole race of humans aside just as easily.</p><p>He left the room. And he left the door open, because at this point, why the rust not?</p><hr/><p>
  <em>So ends Act Two.</em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Next time: Vile's Playground</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Vile's Playground</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The dust swirled under the heavy wind. Everything was in shades of yellows and reds and browns. No living thing could be seen- indeed, it was hard to imagine anything ever having lived there. They'd teleported far enough west that the sun was still up, though it would be down soon. When the wind kicked up it was hard to see Sol beneath the haze. It was a nasty place. X wouldn't normally have chosen to come to such a sterile, unpleasant locale.</p><p>This situation wasn't normal. The place's impossibility was what made it perfect.</p><p>"What do you think?" X said.</p><p>"I think it's a challenging environment," Zero replied. "Footing will never be guaranteed, while the low visibility brings effective ranges in. Looking in certain directions will be hard or dangerous. On balance I think the advantage goes to close-in fighting."</p><p>X smiled. "That is what you'd think about, isn't it?"</p><p>"What does that mean?" Zero said, more 'worried in a curious way' than defensive.</p><p>"Nothing bad. I just think I'm starting to understand you better, that's all."</p><p>"Oh. In that case... what are you thinking about?" Zero asked in turn.</p><p>X looked around. "I was thinking that it would be an awful lot of work to make this place habitable again. We can be here because of teleportation, but we couldn't stay here. We'd need to build a reactor to provide for recharges, and it would have to be something that could last for a while with minimal refueling, which pretty much limits the field to nuclear or cold fusion. We'd need shelter, and opportunities to clear the grit out of our systems, because otherwise we'd grind down. That's assuming that parts aren't a problem, or that we can deliver them somehow... we could figure out ways to build an outpost here, but that's not the same thing as surviving. And for humans it's even trickier. They have different needs than us. Simpler, in some ways, but their water needs are a big problem. Out here... I'd have to investigate digging wells, hope there's ground water we can reach. If there isn't, we'll need to be super-efficient collecting rain water and have a strict conservation and reuse regime, and probably population limits until more infrastructure is in... er..."</p><p>X became aware that Zero was staring. A wave of self-consciousness overcame him. He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm babbling, aren't I?"</p><p>Zero blinked hard. X was sure it had nothing to do with the dust. "You're thinking about all of that?" Zero said, disbelieving. "All the time?"</p><p>"Sort of," X said, abashed. "The first thought was how hard it would be for people to live here. The rest followed after that. I got a little carried away." He looked sheepishly at Zero. "You don't mind, do you?"</p><p>X watched Zero processing this. What he said took X by surprise. "You're thinking about everyone other than yourself," Zero said. "You're showing friend-type behaviors for people you've never met. People who might not even exist. No... more than that." Zero looked agitated. "I've been wrong about you, a little bit. I've interpreted most of your actions too... small. You don't just operate at the tactical or operational level. You're at the strategic."</p><p>"What are you talking about?" X asked.</p><p>"Your strategic-level subroutines have more priority than I thought," Zero said, as if the trouble was merely how he'd worded the idea.</p><p>"Don't give me too much credit," X said. "I just... saw problems that needed solving."</p><p>That agitated Zero, as if X's surprise bothered him. "Thinking about living here implies expansion," Zero said. "It takes resources, resources you'd only spend to meet a need. It implies that you think, at some point, that population will expand. Sooner or later the war will end, Abel City will overflow, and people will need places to go. The problem you're solving isn't an engineering problem, it's a social one. You're planning that next step already. And... and you're planning strategy for other people. It's like you're thinking ahead for a whole population."</p><p>A lump in X's throat made it hard to speak. "You... think so?"</p><p>"You can't see that?" Zero said. "When you were talking, you changed tenses. You moved out of the hypothetical. Wasn't that your strategic-level subroutines taking over?"</p><p>"I'm... not..." X shook his head. "Hold on. You're talking about the three levels of war, right? Tactical, operational, strategic?"</p><p>Zero's expression spoke for him: That should have been obvious from the start.</p><p>"I mean, okay, I have been doing some things that have strategic-level impact," X said. "I've thought a few things through... what?"</p><p>"Put on your helmet," demanded Zero.</p><p>"Huh?" X felt like he was three steps behind.</p><p>"Put on your helmet!" Zero said again. "I want to start."</p><p>"Did I say something wrong?" X asked, still wrong-footed. "Did I make you..."</p><p>"Helmet!"</p><p>The force in his voice caused X to take a half-step back. "Some ground rules first," X said, even as his fingers nervously tightened on the helmet. "You've got variable power settings on the buster and the saber, right? Set them as low as possible. We don't want to really hurt each other. And we'll do this in single passes. Each pass ends the first time someone lands a hit with buster or saber."</p><p>Zero's gaze sharpened. "That is acceptable," he said. "Now helmet!"</p><p>X responded immediately, almost automatically, to the commanding tone in Zero's voice. He put the helmet on. Once more, he felt his world expand as it interfaced with his systems. That was where the first warning of attack came from- not from his eyes, which were downcast as he slipped the helmet on, but from a proximity alarm in the helmet.</p><p>The blow was a hard, straight right. It struck X's chest with a sharp smack as metal impacted metal. X cried out as he stumbled back from the force of it, only just keeping his balance. "Hey!" he complained.</p><p>"The pass isn't over," Zero said, eyes narrow. "No buster or saber hit... here I come!"</p><p>X raised his buster in panic.</p>
<hr/><p>Imagine a dinosaur in its native time. The exact kind doesn't matter- whatever first comes in to your head. Now imagine that the dinosaur is living directly beneath the comet that, ten minutes later, will strike Earth and bring about mass extinction. What's the dinosaur doing at that moment? Foraging, probably. Maybe searching for a mate, or rearing young, or evading a predator. It's doing things, in other words, that <em>won't matter the slightest bit</em> in ten minutes because it, and everything it's ever known, is about to be obliterated.</p><p>The human brain has been described as a machine that changes the future. Its power is the ability to read the past, foresee the future, and alter the present so a more favorable future results. But it's helpless without information. With no data, or bad data, it can't avoid the dooms it faces.</p><p>Now picture Abel City. In a city this large there are millions of fate-alteration engines, but they're as powerless as the dinosaurs because they don't see the comet coming. And it is coming, as sure and sharp as a guillotine's blade.</p><p>The comet's name is Sigma.</p>
<hr/><p>"Sheesh, I thought he'd never leave!"</p><p>"It's your fault for dragging out your turnover forever and ever."</p><p>"I didn't drag it out, I just wanted to get a good feel for what's going on in my sectors."</p><p>"What's going on? It's late, man. Even most of the reploids are tucked in nice and tight."</p><p>"I can't know that for sure, that's why I need a good turnover."</p><p>"Shit, you know better. You don't get a good idea what's going on until you actually take over. Until you're sitting there, watching traffic, querying cameras, listening to the flow... if you're not doing that, you're just jacking off. So kick the offgoing guy out and get in!"</p><p>"Maybe that's how you operate. Think that's how Watch operates? Wait, wait, don't answer. How 'bout I call Watch down here and have you explain turnover to him."</p><p>"Don't be a buddy fucker."</p><p>"Ha! So you know you're wrong. You talk a big game, but you don't have a hair on your sack..."</p><p>"Shut up."</p><p>"See what I mean? You..."</p><p>"Shut up! For real, I've got a call."</p><p>The other tech on the watch floor started and looked at his own console. "Got a camera hit. Gee-fourteen."</p><p>"Gee-fourteen? What are you talking about? My verbal is from a patrol in tee-eleven."</p><p>"That's the other side of the city! You're on crack. Look!" He pointed at the main map. He pulled up a camera feed in a corner of the screen. The feed showed weapons fire as (presumed) Mavericks blasted their way into a Unitech facility. A dot-and-line connected feed to map in the G-14 sector.</p><p>"You look!" retorted the other tech. He pointed to one of the blue circles that represented Hunter transponders. A red aura appeared around it at the tech's behest, representing contact with Mavericks. It was in T-11- impossibly far from G-14.</p><p>The techs stared for a few seconds before one came to his senses. They had a job to do. If things didn't make any sense at their level, they needed to call in...</p><p>"Watch! Maverick contact, two sectors!"</p><p>The Watch Officer, old reliable Colonel Ellis with his old reliable coffee cup, was between the two techs in a moment. "That far apart?" he said, as surprised as they'd been. The techs shared a look- no kidding!- before a third tech spoke up.</p><p>"Watch, Mavs are hitting the ultra-highrise in jay-fifteen." A new feed appeared. On it, the recently rebuilt guard station on the highway was getting blown apart yet again.</p><p>Ellis nodded. "Alright, I think I see... attention on the floor! Mavericks are hitting in disparate areas, so they needed to secure their exit early. They'll run for the ultra-highrise soon, so we'll position Hunters to intercept..."</p><p>"Watch!" interrupted the ACPD liaison. It was such a serious break of protocol that everyone immediately turned to look at him. "ACPD's got Mavericks in ay-two!"</p><p>"Ay-two?" Ellis said dumbly, his briefing forgotten. All eyes went to the board. A-2 was in the northwest corner of the city, almost as far as you could get without leaving city limits completely, well around the northern shore of the Lake. There were no Hunters in that area because the Mavericks had never gotten within twelve sectors. The great sprawling mass of the city separated A-2 from J-15.</p><p>No one spoke until Ellis gave voice to what all of them were thinking.</p><p>"What the hell?"</p>
<hr/><p>"Hiding, are we?" Vile hissed with glee. "Good. I was hoping someone would give me a reason..."</p><p>He reached for one of the three tubes he'd strapped to his body. Each was a weapons module developed by Unitech research. Each was compatible with the universal socket on Vile's shoulder.</p><p>Vile pulled the grenade launcher free and fitted it to his shoulder while, with his other hand, he gestured for his Maverick team to stay back. He chuckled as the interface for the launcher came to life. There... beautiful.</p><p>Bending his body to change the angles, he fired off two quick shots through the doorway. The grenades bounced as he'd planned, coming to rest on either side of the doorway, right where the surviving Hunters had taken shelter. There was a burst of sound as the Hunters recognized their doom- entirely too late- and then two bursts of light and heat and metal.</p><p>Vile sprinted through the door, too quickly for most reploids to keep up, but there was no need. The grenades had done their work.</p><p>"Lovely," Vile said with something close to a coo. "I'd been saving this for a special occasion. Almost three years! I'm sure Unitech is glad it worked as designed."</p><p>He cackled at his own joke. He made a mental note to thank Serges for teleportation tech. Without it, it was too much of a bother to lug all of his toys around; he'd had to pick one and stick with it. Now? Now he got to play with all of his toys.</p><p>He disengaged the empty grenade launcher and flicked it away like a toothpick. He reinstalled his favorite chaingun and strode further into the room.</p><p>It was an office area. They'd turned the lights off everywhere in this police station, hoping to convince the Mavericks that no one was here. Vile knew better. He upturned a desk, noisily, messily; pencils and papers flew everywhere. A round, balding, middle-aged man was cowering behind.</p><p>"Don't shoot!" he cried out, raising his hands.</p><p>"Don't bother," said Vile. He kicked the man so viciously the top of his skull separated from the rest.</p><p>"Vile!" cried one of the other Mavericks as they filed in behind.</p><p>"What?" Vile shot back.</p><p>"You're wasting time, we have a job to do!"</p><p>"I know we do, and I'm not wasting time," Vile retorted. "We're supposed to destroy this Hunter station. That's what I'm doing. Anyone who works in this station is part of it, so they all get destroyed."</p><p>The other Maverick blanched and stammered. "But... Sigma said don't bother with the humans," he said weakly.</p><p>"You're wrong," Vile retorted. "He said that the humans' lives have no value. Which means we shouldn't feel bad when we kill them. And let me tell you... heh heh heh..." One of his hands rubbed the smooth metal where once there had been a face. "...I won't feel bad at all."</p><p>A woman screamed at the sound of those words. Vile keyed on the new noise. As the warbot whirled in that direction, the other Mavericks swore they saw his blank face grin.</p>
<hr/><p>"And... eff-four now, too? Goddamnit!" Ellis looked at the map. Even if the Mavericks used every transport they had, there was no way they could have gotten to all these places at once, certainly not without being detected <em>en route</em>. Seven separate attacks? Splashed across the map like a bad scattergram?</p><p>"Attention on the floor," he called. "The Mavericks are committed wholesale. This is everything they've got. This is our chance to find them and crush them. Spread out like this they can't coordinate and we can outnumber them everywhere. Activate all reserve Hunters, call in ACPD and the Guardian Force Home Guard, divert all patrols to the closet Maverick incursions. No holding back. Carry on!"</p><p>One or two ragged voices called back "Huzzah", but everyone else was already talking. Ellis didn't blame them. There was an awful lot to do.</p><p>Ellis nodded to himself. No, there could be no holding back. Every resource would have to be tapped for this.</p><p>"Watch, they're in ex-one!"</p><p>X-1? The <em>south</em> side of the Lake? Ellis' immediate reaction was to say impossible. "Verify that," he said.</p><p>"Sir, it's... I lost the feed, but I swear to you, they're there, sir!"</p><p>How? Ellis felt lost. He'd fought the Mavericks for years and they'd never done anything like this. His reality was breaking. How could he answer? "Lockdown," he said, and then came to himself. "Put everything on lockdown, the whole city."</p><p>"What sectors, sir?"</p><p>"Every sector! Ay-one to whiskey-fifteen, I want every sector locked down, every corp shut down, every government facility locked up tight. This city is closed for business until we get this under control!"</p><p>Three techs started chattering to relay these instructions. Would it be enough, Ellis wondered. This was more Mavericks than had ever been deployed. This was beyond SigMav, for sure. Which meant...</p><p>Uprising.</p><p>A word said only in whispers, a word the elite of Abel City never used in jest. SigMav couldn't get to all these different places on their own. Physically impossible. But there it was. Which meant this wasn't SigMav... or wasn't <em>just</em> SigMav. They had help. Lots of help. From inside the city.</p><p>Uprising.</p><p>Time to make a phone call.</p>
<hr/><p>The lead Maverick in Assassination Team Alpha kicked down the door. It was mostly glass; it shattered irrevocably when it hit the ground.</p><p>In went the Mavericks. They hardly needed to communicate as they went. They were one of Sigma's best teams, and they had worked together for some time. Only their name had changed.</p><p>They moved quickly. They swept through the dark aisles. One of them noted rows of weapons, long and silvery or matte black. He frowned at the sight of them, as they were poorly designed for weapons; an impact anywhere but the head would shatter them, but almost as importantly there wasn't anyone here to wield them. Confusing.</p><p>He didn't linger.</p><p>The other Mavericks went past rows of apparel. In their hyper-alert, combat-ready state where first priority was search, they noted how the pants were baggy and loose and antithetical to movement, and the shirts were deliberately bland as if to apologize for the pants. If they'd been there for any other reason, they might have laughed. But no- finding the target was more important.</p><p>They got to the end of the room. One checked behind the wooden apparatus there, but there wasn't anyone to be found.</p><p>The first Maverick lowered his buster. "Rust it, no one's here," he said. "Never mind the target. We shoulda checked the hours before we came in."</p><p>The leader lowered his own. "You're right. This one's a bust." He talked into the radio. "Maverick Home, Luke Parker is not at the golf course."</p><p>"Understood. New coordinates inbound."</p><p>As one, the Mavericks teleported out, intent on scouring all of the target's known locations. Sigma had marked his prey, and the Enemy Most Hated would be found.</p>
<hr/><p>"Down, down, everyone down!" Mogg shouted over the barrel of his buster.</p><p>Human bodies dropped to the floor immediately.</p><p>"You, too," Rupert said to the human security guard, who'd been as surprised as the rest.</p><p>"Sure thing, boss," said the guard, and he went out of sight beneath his desk.</p><p>Mogg started to walk through the repair bay towards the storage bays; Rupert's eyes strayed to watch him as he moved. That moment of lapse caused him to miss the guard reemerging with a plasma pistol in his hands.</p><p>The guard's motions did cause Rupert to look back, just in time to flinch. He ducked back and away and his arm came up to protect his face. It was just enough movement to throw off the guard's aim. The bolt of plasma hit Rupert in the armpit. The Maverick fell.</p><p>There was no thought. There were no words. There was just a rush of almighty fury as Mogg whirled on the guard. Both aimed, but Mogg was just the slightest bit faster. The human's chest was charred almost before Mogg knew he'd fired.</p><p>Terror filled Mogg. His mind, in its fear, reprinted the guard's pattern on every human there. Everyone who was down was reaching for a weapon. Every one of them was a mortal threat. Every one of them would be shooting at him in a moment. His only defense was to shoot first.</p><p>These thoughts were not explicit in his head. There was no time for that, and too much threat. Self-preservation instinct took over, trumping even his training and tactics. And even then, he might not have been able to pull the trigger if the other Maverick in the cell hadn't done so first, thinking along the same lines.</p><p>As it was, when the sound of that buster shot- magnified and reverberated in the confined space- hit Mogg's ears, only one action became possible.</p><p>He returned to his senses some moments later in a sea of smoke and ashes and the acrid stench of burnt flesh. He looked around, as if for the first time, and saw that he was surrounded by corpses.</p><p>His mind immediately flashed back to the Jericho convoy. Vile's words. <em>They were resisting.</em> Were they really? Had these humans been resisting? Did that even matter?</p><p>By Light, what was happening?</p><p>The buster was heavy in Mogg's grasp, but he couldn't let go of it. It was as if his hands had frozen in place, as if someone had welded the buster to his fingers. His ears were ringing from all the close-in weapons shots. He was sure he had a subroutine that was supposed to dampen aural input at times like these, but in all the excitement it hadn't worked as intended.</p><p>Excitement? The notion made Mogg feel sick, worse than teleportation nausea by far. That could be rationalized, explained, understood. This...</p><p>"You want some of this? Huh?!"</p><p>Mogg looked over to see the third member of his fire team standing over the still-smoking body of the guard. "I said, you want some? Ahhhhhhh!" More buster shots, each one a testament to overkill, even as each one seemed completely necessary.</p><p>And when it was over and there wasn't much more than charcoal from the guard's belly on up, the Maverick looked to Mogg with wide, trembling eyes. "What's happening?" he whispered, voice quavering.</p><p>Mogg's mouth opened, but no words would come out. He tried again, and it wasn't until the third time that he realized he had no idea what to say.</p><p>Rupert's moan spared the other Mavericks. They were by his side in an instant. "How are you?" Mogg asked.</p><p>"Rotten," Rupert said. "Right arm's useless, barely hanging on at all. Chest ain't so hot either. Self-repair's telling me I'm on my own for this one."</p><p>"We need to get you back to Maverick Home," Mogg said. "Can you teleport?"</p><p>"I think so, but I couldn't get down to the Med Bay on my own, not like this."</p><p>It was all the excuse Mogg needed. "Don't, then. We'll help you in once we get back."</p><p>"Sure," Rupert said.</p><p>Mogg hefted his radio. "Maverick Home, epsilon-two. Got a casualty, need to bring him home."</p><p>"Report status on your target."</p><p>"We-ell, we didn't quite... er..." Mogg saw his teammate shaking his head vigorously, and suddenly saw why; if he said the target wasn't destroyed, another team would be sent, and then they'd see... "I mean, correction, target's glass, we just took a hit during the job."</p><p>"Understood. Teleport home, coordinate set three."</p><p>"Comin' home," Mogg confirmed. He turned to his companions. "Set three. Let's get the rust out of here."</p>
<hr/><p>"Negative contact, repeat, negative contact."</p><p>"Bullshit! We had a feed..."</p><p>"I know you had a feed, and yeah, the Mavericks were here, we can see that from the damage."</p><p>"Then find them!"</p><p>"They aren't here."</p><p>"You're not looking hard enough."</p><p>"Watch Floor, the building is nothing but rubble now. They're not hiding in the rubble. They're gone."</p><p>"...stand by."</p>
<hr/><p>"Maverick Home, we're pinned down!" The three Mavericks huddled against what had been a bus. The leader was speaking on the radio. "This is delta-one, our target had a Hunter garrison and they were alerted. Request new coordinates for egress."</p><p>"Understood, delta-one, stand... correction. Reinforcements en route. Provide coordinates."</p><p>The leader's eyes grew wide, and then an anticipatory smile came to him. He couldn't help but think, as he sent new coordinates over the radio, that what was about to happen wasn't fair at all.</p>
<hr/><p>"Pour it on!" shouted the Hunter leader. "Keep 'em locked in place, Twelfth Squad's are on their way, just a few more..."</p><p>A blaze of light appeared behind the Hunters. It was bright enough that none of the Hunters wanted to look in that direction. When they could, they squinted over their shoulders while they kept their weapons trained at the Mavericks.</p><p>The other Mavericks.</p><p>One of the Hunters managed to gasp out, "Sigma!"</p><p>It was so nice to be recognized, Maverick Prime thought with a smile.</p><p>He was moving quicker and more quickly than the Hunters were. Before the first could begin to turn, a beam saber had swept through his waist. The second Hunter was too close for the saber, so Sigma leveraged his greater size and weight and dropped an elbow on the Hunter's head. This shouldn't have been fatal- the Hunter's helmet did its job- but the force Sigma used was terrific. He broke the junction between head and neck. The Hunter actually remained standing where he was, as his balance wasn't impaired... but there was no signal traffic to or from his head. He was dead on his feet.</p><p>The third Hunter actually managed to finish his turn before Sigma got to him, but not in enough time to get a decent shot, and the saber slagged his core before his fingers could squeeze. The final Hunter might have had time to get at least one shot in, but he'd panicked and was fleeing. Sigma came up behind him and caught him without effort. He lifted the Hunter by the back of his neck, taking him off of his feet. The Hunter kicked and flailed, but he had no leverage at all.</p><p>"I'm going to give you a chance," Sigma said. "You're a reploid brother of mine. We're both sons of the Father of All. There's no reason for us to fight. You should be able to tell that the humans' time is over. This offensive will break them. So join us now. You'll be accepted, no questions asked."</p><p>That seemed to bring some sense to the Hunter. "I won't be a traitor!" he vowed, and tried to point his buster back behind him to shoot Sigma.</p><p>"Wrong answer," Sigma said. He drew the Hunter in and grasped his face. Two fingers went into the Hunter's mouth and curled up. "By siding with the humans, you ceased to be a true reploid- and I'm the protector of all reploids." Sigma pulled upwards, more, more, more- and the Hunter's face tore open. Circuitry, cabling, armor, and like-flesh went flying in all directions.</p><p>"It's too bad," he said, letting the corpse drop. "You would have made a fine Maverick."</p><p>He walked out into the clear, beam saber raised over his head. Team delta-one gave him a cheer as they emerged and hustled past into their target building. Sigma was tempted to join them, just to bask in the camaraderie and appreciation... such an addictive feeling... but he had other priorities. His internal chronometer reported he still had five minutes before phase two began. Enough time for another intervention. Maybe two, if he hurried.</p><p>"Maverick home," he called back over the radio he'd been given for just this mission- the very first strike tonight had been to liberate extra radios; they hadn't had enough of their own. They'd never needed this many. And since these were short-range types which could never have hoped to bounce a satellite on their own, the second team inserted tonight had gone to ground in a nice quiet spot with a very powerful relay.</p><p>"Sigma actual ready for more combat," he called.</p><p>"Confirmed. Coordinates incoming."</p>
<hr/><p>"They were just in ell-six, don't tell me... ar-eight? When did that happen?" Ellis' heart sank. "I just sent forces <em>out</em> of ar-eight to chase the Mavericks at... get them back, get them back!"</p><p>"Watch, they're ten minutes out by now, they'll never make it back in time!"</p><p>"The Mavericks made it there in that time, surely we can get there... they can't destroy the whole thing before they get back. We just need to get there before they flee and we can pin them down. Turn the Sixteenth around. And tell ar-eight to hold on as long as they can, help's coming."</p><p>"Watch, we've lost contact in bee-thirteen."</p><p>"Slow the Hunters down in bee-thirteen, tell them to advance on a broad front. We can't let the Mavericks slip away again."</p><p>It'd been like this for minutes now. Ellis knew he was the best of the Watch Officers, he was operating at the peak of his powers, he was wrangling an army across the length and breadth of the city, and it didn't matter because he couldn't bring the Mavericks to battle. Thank God this was happening on his watch, he thought to himself, but at the same time he thought, it wouldn't be any different if anyone else was on duty at this time. Because if he couldn't hold contact on the Mavericks, if he couldn't even slow them down, who could?</p><p>"Sir! I have General Messier on the line."</p><p>Finally! That was a relief. "Patch me in." Ellis nearly dropped the phone; his hands were sweaty and shaky enough that his grip was tenuous. "General, Watch, we have Mavericks everywhere."</p><p>"What sector?"</p><p>"Sector? Sir, I have reported activity in two dozen sectors, I have live data on eight..."</p><p>"Two dozen?"</p><p>"Yes, two dozen! I can list them but it'd waste your time. The point is they're everywhere! If this isn't... General, I think we need to call this an uprising."</p><p>There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, though Ellis had to plug his free ear with a hand to shut out the cacophony of the Watch Floor. "Are you saying you want..."</p><p>"Yes, sir." Ellis composed himself to say the words formally. "I request you authorize the Dichotomy Protocol."</p><p>Time passed. Perhaps Messier was waiting for Ellis to laugh and say "Just kidding". Not in this situation he wouldn't. Ellis had never felt overwhelmed before. The Mavericks were always just the thing that kept him from being with his wife. No longer. Now, for the very first time, Ellis felt the thrill of danger, of what this uprising might mean. Nothing else would have caused him to make that request.</p><p>"I understand," Messier said at last. "Give me a few minutes to arrange it."</p><p>"General, I tell you truly..." Ellis looked up at the main board, eyes wide. "The sooner the better."</p>
<hr/><p>"Where'd they come from?"</p><p>"I don't know, but that purple guy is too... agh!"</p><p>"Surprise, scrapheaps!"</p><p>"No, no-"</p><p>"Don't worry. It'll all be over soon."</p><p>"Get away! Get awayyyy..."</p><p>Thud thud thud.</p><p>Fire. Oil. Blood. Mess everywhere.</p><p>"More! I need more! Maverick Home, new coordinates!"</p><p>"Already?"</p><p>"Yesssssss..."</p><p>"Al-alright. Stand by."</p>
<hr/><p>Maria was two-thirds done with the monologue portion of the report when the driver came up to her and George. "Maria, ma'am, you can't stay out in the open."</p><p>"Why not?" Maria snapped. "George is a wiz with the lighting and it matches..."</p><p>"Ma'am, there are Mavericks out tonight."</p><p>That was enough reason for George, but Maria didn't seem too concerned. "Well, they're not anywhere near here, are they? We're in the northwest. Everyone knows the Mavericks never go there."</p><p>"That's just it. They're everywhere. Yes, some of them have been over there. I've been listening in on ACPD's channels, and it's bonkers out there."</p><p>George believed that. It was one of the competitive advantages of working for the same corp that made police radios- he couldn't remember how many scoops they'd gotten from reacting to crimes almost before the police themselves arrived.</p><p>"The boss is always hungry for reports on the Maverick Menace," Maria said stubbornly. "Maybe we could drive towards..."</p><p>"If you do that, ma'am, you're gonna do it without me," the driver said. "This is a good gig, but it ain't worth dying for."</p><p>Maria's face went cross. "Fine," she said coldly. "You're fired. Come along, George. You'll drive for me now."</p><p>She swept past the driver, who hadn't moved. He was still in shock, the poor guy. He hadn't expected that Maria would be so flippant. George knew better.</p><p>For a moment he considered abandoning her there- he wondered if she knew how to drive, and concluded that she probably didn't, probably never needed to learn when other people were all too willing to schlep her along. Instead, for reasons he couldn't quite pinpoint, he didn't. He followed in her wake as if drawn in by the vacuum, companionably patting the thunderstruck driver on the shoulder as he passed.</p><p>This night wasn't like other nights, he decided. Something more, something greater, was afoot. Maria probably hadn't sensed it yet. Maybe George was imagining things. He didn't think so. Staying out there, staying mobile... that was most important. Things would be happening, soon, and someone needed to see them.</p><p>He clutched his camera tightly as he ran for the news van.</p>
<hr/><p>"Negative contact gee-fourteen!"</p><p>"Damn it! How? How?!" Ellis grabbed a handful of hair and pulled. The pain was barely noticeable beneath the thickening fog of panic and despair. "Get that dot off the map, then." Hard enough to think clearly without the big board being polluted by bad data.</p><p>But it still was. It had to be. There was no way the Mavericks were at all those places- the map bled with red markers and auras. Not unless this really was a full-scale uprising. But if it was, how come no one could come to grips with the Mavericks? How could ACPD and the Guardian Force and the Hunters all be missing? How could the Mavericks be moving so damn fast?</p><p>Ellis had lost control. Too many units were moving around, and it was too hard to keep all of their destinations straight. Too many Mavericks, too many sectors, couldn't trust his information...</p><p>How many dots had been removed? Ten? Fifteen, maybe? Many many more had been added, which didn't make sense. It was like, by the time the Hunters confirmed that the Mavericks had left, they'd moved to a different sector twice. People were talking, but their voices washed off of him; it was a background roar, like waves on the shore of the Lake.</p><p>The realization was painful, but it couldn't be avoided, and soon it was the only thing he could think.</p><p>Everything was all fucked up and <em>Ellis couldn't stop it</em>.</p><p>The phone rang. Without his eyes leaving the big board, Ellis grabbed the receiver. "Watch Officer," he said numbly.</p><p>"Watch, this is General Messier." He paused, as if to let Ellis say something, but he couldn't think of a single thing to say. Eventually he started again. "The Speaker of the House has declared the reploids in uprising. With the concurrence of the Protection Committee, he has authorized the Dichotomy Protocol. Watch Officer, implement it immediately."</p><p>The words took time to penetrate into Ellis' mind.</p><p>"Hello?" Messier tried.</p><p>Ellis shook his head. Finally, something that might help, something that might add clarity... "Dichotomy Protocol, implement, yes sir!" He hung up- and heard weapons fire. His eyes scanned the big board, looking for the source, but it wasn't coming from there. It wouldn't, he remembered, they didn't have speakers near the big board. Besides, the sound was muffled, like it was coming through a wall.</p><p>A wall?</p><p>More shots fired, much louder this time, and all the techs and officers on the Watch Floor were facing the same wall Ellis was. That's when the wall burst inward in a cloud of masonry and smoke and plasma.</p><p>How was this happening? Ellis' mind wondered that as the screaming started. How could the Mavericks be here, of all places? The Mavericks had never managed to get even close to this place before, it was in the heart of the city so that it could coordinate everyone without...</p><p>...being...</p><p>...attacked.</p><p>And Ellis saw, even as the Mavericks ploughed their way through the shattered wall, what had happened, and how badly Abel City's defenders had been outmaneuvered. As weapons fire started again- vastly louder now, in the confined space- he grabbed the phone, hit the cross-connect to the radios and the all-channels override.</p><p>"All stations, Watch Floor," he called. "Uprising confirmed, Dichotomy Protocol authorized. All units are weapons free, weapons free..."</p><p>One of the Mavericks, bright red in color, burned down a tech with a handheld buster before looking in Ellis' direction. He didn't turn the buster. Instead he raised an arm. A nozzle was visible underneath.</p><p>"...weapons free," Ellis breathed.</p><p>A white cloud raced towards Ellis. An image of his wife flew to the front of his mind. Then the low-temperature gas hit his face, and the man known as Colonel Ellis was no more.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Next time: Inferno</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Inferno</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sigma opened the door- using the handle, rather than kicking it in, although that certainly would have worked. Two men were inside, both wearing fancy uniforms instead of anything practical.</p>
<p>"You've got to get out of here, General," said the younger of the two. That would be Lieutenant Altemarra, Sigma presumed based on Alia's intel, Messier's adjutant-slash-devotee. "The Watch Floor is reported lost, we need to get you to the command bunker..."</p>
<p>Messier's eyes caught on Sigma, and went wide with fear. This made Sigma's smirk intensify. The lieutenant must have noticed, because he cut off and whirled at Sigma. Without missing a beat the young man un-holstered a magpistol and aimed it at the Maverick.</p>
<p>"Stay away from the General," Altemarra demanded. Sigma could see the math going on in the human's head: If I can hold him off for just a few seconds, it might be enough for the General to get away...</p>
<p>He almost pitied the lieutenant. Messier wasn't moving. Shock had frozen him. Altemarra's actions were accomplishing nothing.</p>
<p>The magpistol barked. Sigma didn't even try to dodge. He wanted this.</p>
<p>The metal slug impacted in the dead center of his chest. It stung. That was the worst they could do, Sigma thought, and the notion energized him. The worst they could do... was effectively nothing. One stride, two strides, and before the lieutenant could reset for a second shot Sigma's fist lashed out. His blow, too, landed in the center of his target's chest, except that his didn't sting. When Sigma struck, it crushed the human's heart with his own sternum. Sigma was past him in two steps and had forgotten him by the third.</p>
<p>Still the general hadn't moved. His mouth was hanging open, and his eyes were watering, like he was trying to blink but couldn't. Sigma grabbed the human by the neck and lifted him off of his feet.</p>
<p>"What's wrong, 'general'?" he said mockingly. "Aren't you going to fight me? Surely you've got a weapon, or some vehicle you can ride, or a prototype armor. Surely the leader of the Guardian Force can muster some show of resistance!"</p>
<p>He laughed as the general squirmed. "Of course not," Sigma continued. "Because you're only human. You have no power of your own. The only power you have is what others give you... and what you can steal from others." He pulled Messier in until their faces were close together, until his beady marble-like eyes were centimeters from Messier's bulging ones. "Well, I'll put a stop to that."</p>
<p>He squeezed.</p>
<p>The general's neck broke with a satisfying crack. The sound was much more definitive than when Sigma had ended Dr. Cain. He had expected as much. Killing Dr. Cain had been the hardest. It was getting easier each time. Good.</p>
<p>He threw the corpse to the side like the useless garbage it was. "Maverick Home, Sigma actual. The third head of the hydra is slain."</p>
<p>"Understood. Phase two is under way. Do you wish to intervene again?"</p>
<p>"Yes," Sigma replied, flexing his hands. "Provide coordinates."</p>
<p>"Stand by."</p>
<hr/>
<p>No one at that moment had the full picture of what was going on in Abel City. The Mavericks knew what they were trying to do, but their live intelligence on Abel City's forces was nearly nothing. As for City Hall, the Watch Floor was gone, and even when it had been operating the Mavericks' tactics had been deliberately designed to cause as much confusion as possible.</p>
<p>The fog of war was particularly dense that night.</p>
<p>These conditions played into the Mavericks' hands. They weren't trying to react the way City Hall's forces were; they were following their own plan, which was working almost precisely as intended.</p>
<p>To wit: they were abusing teleportation as much as physically possible.</p>
<p>During phase one, they targeted soft, vulnerable things that were directly connected to City Hall's power base: depots, staging areas, barracks, repair facilities, police stations. None of these was vital on its own, so they were not well guarded, but because of their connections to the regime, City Hall was compelled to respond when they were threatened. They responded by throwing their units at each new area hit, not unlike playing whack-a-mole.</p>
<p>The Mavericks took care not to directly engage these forces when avoiding them was possible. Some of the first strikes were against soldiers, Hunters, and police before the general alert started, but these stopped quickly. The truth was that the Mavericks were still horrifically outnumbered. They couldn't afford even favorable exchanges with City Hall's forces. They had to render those forces useless.</p>
<p>That was what phase two was for. Maverick planners had estimated City Hall's response time. Once enough time had elapsed to where they were sure City Hall was committed- once they felt confident all of City Hall's forces were out in the street- they initiated phase two. Phase two targeted the command, control, and communication links that sent those forces to the right places.</p>
<p>It doesn't matter how strong a man's arm is: cut the nerves that lead to it and he'll never win an arm wrestle. Hunter units found themselves lost in the city, undirected, with no idea where the enemy was. Units of the Guardian Force wound up locked in traffic jams with ACPD and emergency services. For three years of the war, Abel City's sheer size had been its most powerful defense. Now it was a muscle-bound giant welded shut inside its own plate mail, unable to land a blow against foes that were never there.</p>
<p>The Mavericks seemed even faster as the loyalists lost all ability to respond. City Hall's forces were still fearsome, still powerful, but in terms of being able to protect those things the Mavericks wanted to destroy, they were utterly defeated.</p>
<p>Sigma urged the Mavericks on, participating in the fighting as frequently as possible. He was eager to move on to phase three.</p>
<p>Phase one was prelude. Phase two was necessary. Phase three would be the payoff.</p>
<hr/>
<p>X's busters blazed as he unleashed shot after shot. No effect- they all sailed harmlessly past Zero, whose erratic and impossibly fast motions made a mockery of X's attempts to slow him down. Once more Zero closed and unleashed a right-handed punch to X's chest.</p>
<p>This time X rolled with the blow, letting it swivel his torso for him. His own right arm came around for a close-range buster shot that might finally make Zero stop. But no- Zero saw that maneuver coming, had anticipated it even. X's right arm slipped into Zero's grasp, and before he knew it he was being pulled over Zero's shoulder and slammed down to the ground.</p>
<p>X's shock absorbers complained but there was no substantial damage. As soon as his motion stopped he brought his spare hand around, forming it to a buster- no good, Zero slapped it away. X tried to pull his hand free and failed, but that was almost as good because it bent Zero's torso forward, in range for a snap kick up.</p>
<p>Missed again.</p>
<p>"At least when you start fighting you don't stop," Zero said, kicking X in the shoulder in a way that clearly implied he could just as easily be kicking X in the head.</p>
<p>"What's good about that?!" X grimaced. Putting both legs flat, he fired off the boosters in his legs. The friction against the ground was intense and stole most of the energy, but the maneuver did what it needed to do: it pushed him back between Zero's legs, putting Zero in front of him in a place where the red robot could be shot.</p>
<p>Except that Zero released X, tumbled away, and was to his feet and coming back again before X had finished rising.</p>
<p>X was through. He rushed Zero the moment his feet were under him. "No more!" he cried. He saw Zero moving to slap his busters out of arc again, and instead swapped back to his hands and caught Zero's in a grapple. "No more!" he said again, straining against the warbot.</p>
<p>"Then make me stop," Zero spat, and put his back into the clinch.</p>
<p>X let out a strained, pained noise as he gave ground, but he grit his teeth and pushed back. It wasn't going to work, he knew. He'd been hoping to catch Zero off-guard by changing his style, but this just played to Zero's strengths, mostly his greater size and power.</p>
<p>But Zero had edges in every category. The conclusion was foregone. Why was he doing this, again? This was stupid!</p>
<p>"You're holding back on me!" Zero accused.</p>
<p>X's downward slide halted. "How can you say that?" he replied.</p>
<p>"Look at you! Even right there, you used your full strength for a moment!"</p>
<p>"I'm not doing anything different..."</p>
<p>"Liar!" Zero broke X's grip and forced the android down. As X stumbled, Zero reached over him and grabbed him by the waist. Lifting him fully upside down, Zero left X helplessly suspended while Zero prepared to power-bomb him.</p>
<p>The sound of X's buster stopped all motion. Zero felt the slightest pain in his foot.</p>
<p>X sighed in relief. "Pass over."</p>
<p>"I should power-bomb you anyway," Zero said harshly. "You know that a shot like that wouldn't stop me in combat. You're supposed to train like you fight. You aren't, you're gaming the system. You're still not taking me seriously. You deserve..." He didn't finish, opting instead to release his grip.</p>
<p>X fell gracelessly to the ground. By the time he'd gathered his wits, Zero had walked some seven paces away.</p>
<p>"Zero," said X, rubbing the impact points as if that would soothe them, "why are we doing this?"</p>
<p>"Because I want it," Zero replied, turning, "and you need it."</p>
<p>"I... need?" X said. He laughed. "You think this is therapy for me? This doesn't do anything for me. I'm doing this because you want it and Serges paid for it. My needs don't come into play."</p>
<p>Zero acted as if he hadn't heard X speak. "I don't understand what you're thinking. How you're thinking. I don't understand how someone with your kind of power is… limiting himself."</p>
<p>He fixed X with a stern gaze. "I used to think you were only at the tactical or operational levels. I could appreciate that. I could understand what you were doing. Your concern would be helping the Mavericks survive from battle to battle. Maybe you estimated that you'd save more lives doing that than fighting. I don't think it'd be true, but maybe your calculations were different. I could believe you thought that.</p>
<p>"Except…" and he tightened his hands and made a face as if he was in pain, "…you <em>are</em> thinking at the strategic level. You said so. I have no… understanding… You have enough power to change the direction of this war! And you don't use it!"</p>
<p>Zero put one foot forward, adopting a stance X recognized by now as a combat-ready posture. "You need this," Zero repeated, as if X had never spoken. "I will understand. Now get up. Here I come!"</p>
<p>X wanted to ask why, wanted to understand, but when Zero started moving at velocities that registered as threatening, X's buster rose once more.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The engine idled loudly. Hunter transports weren't built for stealth. The Hunters' Seventh Squad hadn't moved in several minutes, but they needed to be ready to move at a moment's notice, and the cost of fuel was no object.</p>
<p>Seventh Squad had deployed after a Unitech facility, but by the time they got there, no Mavericks were to be found. So they'd stayed in place, awaiting new orders.</p>
<p>They were listening attentively when Colonel Ellis' voice came across the radio.</p>
<p>"That should free us up a bit," said the commissar as he hopped out of the transport's cab. The Hunters were milling about aimlessly. They all looked at him when he approached.</p>
<p>"Dichotomy Protocol is authorized," he announced, and there would have been murmurs if his Hunters hadn't known better. "We are weapons free. With that, we're going to expand our search. The Mavericks who did this will not get away. Half one, search that building. Half two, search that one."</p>
<p>"Sir?" A rookie Hunter tentatively raised his hand. "What's the Dichotomy Protocol?"</p>
<p>The commissar sighed. "They don't teach you this in training?"</p>
<p>"N-no, sir. I was only in training for three days," he added apologetically.</p>
<p>"Damn rush jobs," the commissar said with a shake of his head. "Alright, the rest of you go. You, with me. We're going to search elsewhere." The commissar turned sharply on his heel and began walking towards a different, much smaller building with showy red trim. He didn't look to see whether or not his orders were being followed. He knew they would be. He was a commissar, and in the Hunters, his word was law.</p>
<p>On his hip he wore an oversized, stylized plasma pistol. It was his badge of office. With it, a commissar was empowered to execute any reploid suspected of Maverickism, or any of his own Hunters for whatever reason he saw fit, no questions asked. Per Hunter doctrine, commissars were the Second Law personified: disobedience meant death.</p>
<p>The rookie Hunter followed hot on the commissar's heels.</p>
<p>The commissar came to the front door of the establishment, which the rookie could now see was an eatery. The décor was bright and bold, red and white and black for maximum contrast. Admittedly it was hard to tell at night, especially with the lights out. The commissar seemed undeterred by this. When he tried to open the door and it didn't budge, he rapped smartly against the glass.</p>
<p>No movement answered him. This made the rookie very nervous. Didn't everyone know you don't keep a commissar waiting?</p>
<p>The second knock drew a response. A humanoid shape came to the door. When it saw who was outside, its movements got much faster. As the door swung outwards, the reploid said to the commissar in obvious deference, "Good evening, sir. How may I aid the Hunters?"</p>
<p>Good, thought the rookie. That was a proper response.</p>
<p>"Let us in, for starters," said the commissar. He started to walk inside. The reploid scurried out of his way. "Your hours say you're still open. Why are you closed down?"</p>
<p>"I heard weapons fire," the reploid answered, backpedaling to keep a safe distance. "I didn't know what was going on, so I closed up the shop. I have to take care of this restaurant for J- for my owners."</p>
<p>The rookie wondered what the reploid had started to say, but the commissar didn't appear concerned. "That's reasonable. But, since you are still open, I would like a root beer float."</p>
<p>The reploid blinked. Hard. "A w-w-what?"</p>
<p>"A root beer float," the commissar repeated. "This place has a reputation. I want to see for myself."</p>
<p>"Coming right up," the reploid restauranteur said. The rookie watched his motions as he began. What was this about? The commissar had a reason for this. Did he suspect the reploid? Did he think the reploid saw something?</p>
<p>They said that commissars were all at least twenty-eight years old. Twenty-eight years! That was a depth of experience and living the rookie couldn't begin to imagine. Yes, the commissar had a reason for what he was doing, guaranteed. The rookie needed to watch and learn more than anything.</p>
<p>"Here you go, sir," the reploid said. He put the frosted mug in front of the commissar. The commissar took the spoon and dunked it into the root beer, then poured the beverage over the top of the ice cream. Once, twice, thrice he did this, before taking a bite of the ice cream.</p>
<p>"Mm," said the commissar. "That is tasty."</p>
<p>"I'm glad you approve, sir," the reploid said. Even the rookie, green as he was, could see the restauranteur's relief.</p>
<p>"I didn't think this place could live up to its reputation," the commissar said between bites, "but I guess I was wrong." He pointed the spoon at the reploid. "That's why you're here, actually. Did you know that?"</p>
<p>"No, sir," the reploid said. The rookie wasn't sure if that was entirely truthful, but the commissar seemed determined to talk either way. After another bite of ice cream, of course.</p>
<p>"Most restaurants are owned- however distantly- by Hypersonic Industries," the commissar explained. "But this particular restaurant was a favorite of Unitech employees. If you look around," he waved at the pictures on the walls, "you'll see a bunch of Unitech types. They were so happy, and this place was so popular for so long, that they decided to give the proprietors a gift. You."</p>
<p>"I see," the reploid said.</p>
<p>"I bet it makes it a lot easier on the owners, too," he said. "You usually work the night shift alone?"</p>
<p>"Yes, sir," the reploid replied. "The owners open up shop early, and I close down late so they can get to bed."</p>
<p>"Sounds nice," the commissar said appreciatively. He took another large bite of ice cream. "This really is good."</p>
<p>"I'm glad you like it. The secret is we brew our own root beer."</p>
<p>"I heard about that," the commissar replied. "You know, I was almost hoping it wouldn't be this good."</p>
<p>"Why's that?" asked the reploid.</p>
<p>The commissar put the spoon back in the mug, drew his plasma pistol, lifted it, and squeezed.</p>
<p>The reploid was a standard civilian model. It had no armor, helmet, or protection of any kind. At that close range the plasma bolt carved a canyon in the reploid's skull, leaving slag and ash and little else, and still had enough energy left over to put a hole in the wall behind. The reploid's smoking body collapsed against the counter. Its lifeless arms knocked over two neat pyramids of stacked glasses. They went crashing to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces of broken dream.</p>
<p>The rookie had to blink twice as his mind tried to catch up to what his optics had just seen. Diagnostics confirmed his optics were working properly. He was able to watch with clarity as the commissar holstered his pistol, grabbed the mug, and drained the remaining root beer.</p>
<p>The commissar slammed the mug down on the counter with a satisfied 'ah'. "That," he said, causing the rookie to start, "is the Dichotomy Protocol. Was that reploid a Maverick? I don't know. You don't either. But he was all alone in the middle of an uprising. He was unsupervised by Unitech or City Hall authorities, at a time when we know Mavericks are everywhere. That means we have to assume he was a rebel.</p>
<p>"That's the dichotomy," the commissar continued, holding up one finger from each hand. "You're either with us," he pointed one finger at the rookie, "or against us." The other finger pointed at the sparking, spasming hunk of junk behind the counter.</p>
<p>"Yes, sir," the rookie said with no force. It was a purely automatic response.</p>
<p>"Now come on," the commissar said. "Your brethren are searching the other buildings for potential Mavericks. We should rejoin them and see how far along they've gotten."</p>
<p>It took a moment for the rookie to realize the commissar was moving away, and another moment for him to remember that he had to follow. He had to rush, but the commissar didn't notice. The rookie's compliance was assumed.</p>
<p>"A-a-and they'll be declaring Maverick any reploids that are... unsupervised?" the rookie asked.</p>
<p>"Of course," the commissar answered, as if surprised by the question. "These are desperate times. Our unit won't be the only one acting this way. Every Hunter squad's default orders just became search and destroy. We must do our part."</p>
<p>The rookie tried to process this. In that case... "Why did you order the root beer float?" he asked.</p>
<p>The commissar gave the rookie a curious, almost suspicious look. "Because I was thirsty," he said. "Now run along."</p>
<p>"Yes, sir," the rookie answered. He followed the commissar's wave and moved ahead of his human master. He felt the commissar's eyes upon him with every step.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Assassination Team Alpha knew well the suite they were going for. Alia's intel had been very detailed, to the point where- even starting on the roof- the Mavericks had no trouble navigating their way.</p>
<p>They kicked down the door. A scream greeted them. They were inside immediately, covering what they saw.</p>
<p>"You're... you're Mavericks! Oh, thank Light!"</p>
<p>Team Alpha lowered their busters at the sight. It was a feminine figure clothed only in pink, nearly-translucent strips of cloth. On her feet were preposterously high heels. The pleasure-bot- for that's what she had to be- took one hasty step, rolled her ankle, and collapsed in a heap.</p>
<p>"You're here, you're here," she was muttering like a prayer. "Thank Light for Mavericks..."</p>
<p>"Where's Luke Parker?" asked the lead Maverick.</p>
<p>Her head snapped up. Worry appeared. "You're... you're not here for me, are you?"</p>
<p>The Mavericks exchanged guilty glances. That was all the confirmation the pleasure-bot needed. "You can't leave me!" she cried, crawling towards the closest Maverick. He skittered just out of her reach. "Don't leave me! You don't know what it's like, I can't stay here even another night, you've got to... you've got to save me!"</p>
<p>The point Maverick turned to his team leader. "We can't carry her when we... move on." Orders- even now they couldn't talk openly about teleportation, not when it was their only advantage. They didn't need to talk, because they all knew teleportation's limits. A reploid could move only its own person and a minimum of equipment. The more equipment, the more power drain was incurred in moving it. Every gram to be moved had a cost.</p>
<p>Even more limiting was the complexity problem. Teleportation only worked- or so Serges said- because the reploid's own processing power and self-knowledge set the parameters. The more a reploid tried to take with him, the more he had to hold in his mind, to the limits of his processing power. Taking another being? Taking something as complex as a living creature? Utterly impossible.</p>
<p>"She doesn't have the client installed," the leader said with a grimace. "She won't be able to travel like we do."</p>
<p>"Just put me in your transport," she pleaded. "I promise not to cause trouble, I'll be quiet and small- I'm good at that, I am!"</p>
<p>"I don't have a copy of the client on me," the leader said.</p>
<p>"None of us do," said the point Maverick. He turned to her. "Listen, everything will be okay. You just have to tell us- where's Luke Parker?"</p>
<p>"I don't know!" said the female reploid. She was openly sobbing now. "He said he had to take a call, but he... he likes to take calls here, so he can have us... service him if he gets bored. I don't know where he went!" She looked up at the point Maverick. "If I knew would you take me? I can guess!"</p>
<p>The point Maverick looked at the leader and shook his head. The leader spoke over his radio. "Maverick Home, it's a negative at Luke Parker's home suite."</p>
<p>"Understood. Stand by for new coordinates."</p>
<p>"We have to go now, I'm sorry."</p>
<p>"No! Don't leave me! I can't do it again, not again!"</p>
<p>"Everything will be fine, just stay here and hide. When we're done tonight, the humans won't be able to hurt you anymore. We're hunting down Luke Parker even now..."</p>
<p>"Please! Pleeeease..."</p>
<p>"Coordinates received. Moving out."</p>
<p>"No, no, no... don't leave meeeee..."</p>
<p>The door shut, but the wailing still reached them. The Mavericks shared a look that conveyed a common understanding. Sigma had labeled Luke Parker as the Enemy Most Hated. Assassination Team Alpha was rapidly coming around to this point of view.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Coming in, coming in!"</p>
<p>"Woah, woah, woah!" shouted Alia as the doors to the med bay flew open. "What's going- verdigris, what happened?"</p>
<p>"Rupert here took a nasty shot," said Mogg as he brought his comrade in. "Plasma burns on the torso, under the arm."</p>
<p>"That's way too close to his core for comfort," Alia said. She was moving towards the main table. "Put him here. Nice and easy. I'll do my best to stabilize him." She looked at Rupert as the reploids maneuvered to get him treated. "How do you feel?"</p>
<p>"Like I've been shot," Rupert said drily.</p>
<p>"Duh," Alia said with a roll of her eyes. "Can you move your arm?"</p>
<p>"Not really."</p>
<p>"What about your other arm?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, it's just sluggish."</p>
<p>"That's actually a good sign," Alia said. "It means your current limiters aren't taking any chances. Which means they're working. Unless... unless it's a hydraulic issue..."</p>
<p>She bit her lip as she felt the Mavericks' eyes burning in to her. They were waiting on her, counting on her. Her hesitation was making them uncomfortable, and who could blame them? She had to be the expert or they'd do something stupid like try and fix themselves. X had made very clear that amateur repairs were the cause of at least a third of the problems he dealt with as the Maverick Medic.</p>
<p>Wait... that's right. On most reploids, no component of the hydraulic system was as low as that wound was. And even if it was, there was no way he'd lost enough fluid that it would affect his other arm; the system was split. No, it was the current limiter, working as intended.</p>
<p>"I know what to do," she said, and surprised even herself with the firmness of her words. "I can't do all the repairs, but I can make you safe and clean until X gets back."</p>
<p>"Gets back?" said Mogg. "Where is he?"</p>
<p>"He went sparring with Zero," Alia said, confused.</p>
<p>"At a time like this?" shrieked Mogg. "There ain't no way we'll be the only team that takes hits. You tellin' me our medic bailed on us now?"</p>
<p>"X doesn't just bail on any... one..." Her vigorous defense of X was cut shot as a horrible thought occurred to her. "How did this wound happen?" she asked.</p>
<p>"A guard un-surrendered on us. Why?"</p>
<p>"A guard?" said Alia. "As in... in Abel City?"</p>
<p>"Where else? It sure wasn't some friendly fire thing, if that's what you were thinking."</p>
<p>X never bailed out on anyone. Alia knew that to her core. He never would have left if he knew people were going to need him. But he didn't know they were going to need him. That was what he'd said, wasn't it? This was going to be a light day, just a few standard check-ins...</p>
<p>X hadn't chosen this time for his spar. Serges had, and X had agreed. So X didn't know a combat operation was going to be starting at this time. And Serges did.</p>
<p>Serges wanted him out of the way.</p>
<p>A chill ran through Alia- and then the determination of stone. If Serges wanted X out of the way, well, that was all the justification she needed to get X right back in the way. She shot Mogg her best time-to-take-me-seriously stare. "I would go and get X myself," she said, "but your friend needs my help. So I'm counting on you to bring back X for me."</p>
<p>"Now?" Mogg said.</p>
<p>"Yes, now! Every moment counts. You want your friend to have the best care, don't you? And I bet we'll take more casualties, if a mission is actually on. They'll need X's help, too. That's your message for X. Those are the words that'll get him to come. Tell him that his children need his help."</p>
<p>"Alright," said Mogg, caving before her. "So how do I contact him?"</p>
<p>"He said we could reach him by satellite," Alia said even as she grabbed some tools. "Go to the command center. He and Zero will have gone to the same spot. If you can find one, you can find both- they'll know how to get him."</p>
<p>"Alright," said Mogg. "I'll go."</p>
<p>"Good." Alia looked away, and Mogg was as good as forgotten. "Now, to get you on to auxiliary power..."</p>
<p>Mogg hesitated a bit longer, as if he needed some further direction from Alia, but all of her focus was on her patient. Mogg scurried along to the command center, wondering what was going on.</p>
<p>Well, why would X be out of contact at a time like this? Alia was right- Mogg had been angry and panicked and had blamed X, when X had sacrificed everything in the name of helping others. X didn't deserve that. So why wasn't he here? Why was Alia so surprised that the mission- The Mission!- was going down?</p>
<p>Someone wasn't telling people things.</p>
<p>That was the thought in his head when he entered the command center. He singled out Stein immediately. "Stein," he said, "I need your help to contact X."</p>
<p>"Contact X?" Stein asked, befuddled. "Hold on." He took his headset off and handed it to another Maverick nearby. "What do you mean, contact X?"</p>
<p>"He's not in the med bay," Mogg said. "Rupert took a hit, I took him back to be looked at, an' the only bot there was a trainee! She said I needed to contact the command center, have 'em bounce a message off a satellite to get in contact with X."</p>
<p>"I don't get it," said Stein. "Why isn't X in the med bay? We're in combat right now, we're taking casualties!"</p>
<p>"You tell me!" Mogg shot back. "Why is he out there with Zero and not here?"</p>
<p>"Wait. He's with Zero?"</p>
<p>"That's what the bot in the med bay said," Mogg replied.</p>
<p>Stein's eyes strayed from Mogg and came to rest on Serges' core. Rust it, thought Mogg. What are we in the middle of? What's going on here?</p>
<p>"We can't contact Zero," Stein said, snapping his gaze back. "He's out of range."</p>
<p>"What about the satellite?" Mogg asked.</p>
<p>"That's the whole problem," Stein said, walking to a screen and pulling up the orbital model. "The satellite Zero took to get down there moved on. A new one took its place, but its orbit is different. It doesn't have the same field of view. They're just out of range- fifty miles, maybe less. Or at least they were when they left."</p>
<p>"You marooned X?" Mogg said, horrified.</p>
<p>"We didn't know he was going!" Stein said with distress. "It was just supposed to be..."</p>
<p>The two reploids turned, together, towards Serges' core.</p>
<p>Mogg shook his head. "We need to get X- besides, Alia'd kick my can if I didn't. Alright, gimme coordinates. I'll put down as far south as I can, and then they can come to me."</p>
<p>"Good plan," Stein said as he worked the console to bring the coordinates up. "Give me a call when you're ready."</p>
<p>"Right."</p>
<p>Once Mogg was out, Stein retrieved his headset, then walked close to Serges core. "Care to explain?" he hissed quietly.</p>
<p>"Don't look at me," was the equally quiet but twice as grumpy reply. "It wasn't my idea. If you have to blame someone, blame your precious commander."</p>
<p>"This was commander Sigma's idea?" Stein said, aghast.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Stein! I'm ready, gimme data."</em>
</p>
<p>Stein stood fully, distracted for a moment. "Right, Mogg. Coordinates are..."</p>
<hr/>
<p>The call over the radio was simple, but rich in import. "All Mavericks, begin phase three."</p>
<p>"Alright!" said Vile enthusiastically. Without even waiting for his squad to follow he teleported. So, naturally, he was first to arrive. He touched down right outside the gates of reploid community housing.</p>
<p>"Ah, this brings back memories," he said with a voice almost as snarky as it was nostalgic. He hadn't missed this place in the slightest. This return was, for him, just a chance to obliterate a part of his memory he didn't need.</p>
<p>He saw movement in the guard shack- the guard was on the radio. Nope, Vile wouldn't let that happen. He could have shot the guard with the buster in his hands, but he had a better idea. On his shoulder he had an extended-range magrifle. It was a pleasing symmetry to Vile- the buster was best for killing other reploids, and the magrifle was preferred for murdering humans.</p>
<p>Like he murdered the guard, punching a slug clean through the glass of the guard shack, through the human's body, out the other side, and through the guard shack's flimsy far wall.</p>
<p>Next Vile took aim at the gates, and this time he did use his buster, until there was nothing left to keep reploids trapped inside. He strolled on through, casually, as if he owned the place. Which wasn't too far from the truth, he thought to himself- all the guards were fleeing. The one in the shack must have tipped them off.</p>
<p>He amused himself by trying to pick them off at long range, and did gun down one before the rest were out of line of sight. Oh well. Not like there would be anywhere for them to go, not once phase three really got going.</p>
<p>Just one more stop and he could be done here. He walked in front of the door to the first building in the block. He unloaded with buster fire, and on the third shot it caved and collapsed inwards, blasted off its hinges.</p>
<p>Vile strolled inside, arms wide. "Reploid brethren," he proclaimed, imitating Sigma with a smile only he could see. "Consider yourselves free. I'm here to tell you the humans are gonna be finished soon! No more licking their boots for us..."</p>
<p>To his right, a door opened. Two figures came into view- a green reploid with industrial headgear, and a lanky ashen-skinned human in a Unitech guard's uniform.</p>
<p>Missed one, Vile thought with glee. He squared his body at the new target. "Allow me to demonstrate," he said.</p>
<p>"No!"</p>
<p>Bang.</p>
<p>Vile looked down scornfully at the two bodies that hit the floor. "You didn't have to do that," he said to the reploid. "It's time for the humans to die. You don't have to protect them."</p>
<p>The human moaned insensibly. It was slumped against the wall with a hole in his gut. But across his body was draped the reploid, and a bigger hole was in its torso.</p>
<p>"You dumbass!" barked the reploid furiously. "He's a Maverick, do you hear? A Maverick!"</p>
<p>That didn't compute. Vile didn't respond well to things he didn't understand. "What the rust's a 'dumbass', bolts-for-brains? Whoever heard of a human Maverick? Shut the rust up and get out of my way, I'm gonna finish him off."</p>
<p>The green reploid levered himself up into Vile's line of fire. "You wanna know what a dumbass is? Look in the mirror, shithead! You just shot Longinus!"</p>
<p>Longinus? That was a name... A name that probably mattered...</p>
<p>...to someone else. "I don't care," Vile said impatiently. "In a moment his name'll be meat. Now move, or I'll go through you to get to him."</p>
<p>"No!"</p>
<p>"Suit yourself," Vile said. Well, he thought as he drew a bead, that simplified things.</p>
<p>His radio crackled. "Vile? Vile, you skipped ahead. The rest of your squad went to a different area!"</p>
<p>"Yeah, yeah, so what?" Vile said irritably.</p>
<p>"Vile, rejoin your unit." Sigma's voice. Okay, that one he had to obey. For now.</p>
<p>"You lucked out," Vile said to his would-be victims. "Just don't make a habit of protecting humans. Their time is over."</p>
<p>As he teleported away, Vile reflected that being sent elsewhere wasn't so bad. He could bring about the end of the humans there, too. He'd go wherever Maverick Home wanted, as long as there were humans to murder once he got there.</p>
<p>He thought a smile to himself.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: Unity</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Unity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zero's cool expression was marred with frustration. "You're still holding back!"</p>
<p>He threw X bodily away from him. X twisted in the air cat-like and managed to land on his feet- just in time for Zero to hit him with a flying knee that sent him sprawling backwards.</p>
<p>"I'm not holding back," X said as he got back to his feet. "I'm bad at this. I haven't fought before."</p>
<p>"That's why you need to do your best now!" said Zero. It was a testament to where the two of them stood that Zero felt safe not moving, even with X pointing a buster at him. "You need to train now so you can be ready to fight."</p>
<p>"I wasn't built to fight," X said, lowering his buster. "Not that there's anything wrong with being built to fight," he hastened to add, knowing his audience, "we don't have control over how we were made... but fighting isn't my fate. I want to build. If I can't think of anything better to do than fight, that's another kind of failure."</p>
<p>"That's stupid," Zero declared. "You know things are wrong. All the things you told me, the things you value- the opposite is happening out there, and still you do nothing!"</p>
<p>"I don't do nothing," X said indignantly.</p>
<p>"But you won't fight for it. That's what's strange to me. You care. I know you do! You think like you're trying to help people, but you won't protect them."</p>
<p>"There are other ways," X insisted.</p>
<p>"If the Hunters stormed Maverick Home and started killing everyone inside, would you fight?"</p>
<p>X's first response died unsaid. After a moment, he said, "Yes," although he sounded like the word left a bitter aftertaste.</p>
<p>"So you will fight, but only if things get bad enough? X, what's bad enough? Where's that line?"</p>
<p>That one connected. X turned away, blushing. "Why do you care?" he said.</p>
<p>"Because you're weakening me, X." X's head snapped around. Zero's expression was almost pained. "Friend behavior, right? Neither of us is as strong as both of us together. But you're not holding up your end. You're cheating us both of a good spar, and you're limiting yourself outside the spar. For no good reason! You're not using your full power, and it's leaving both of us weak."</p>
<p>X's hands moved, but limply, uselessly. "I don't know what more I could be doing," he said. "I'm already using all of my effort and skill..."</p>
<p>"You could fight!" Zero said, interrupting.</p>
<p>"There are other ways," X insisted. "'The pen is mightier than the sword'."</p>
<p>"I've never seen an armor piercing pen," Zero shot back.</p>
<p>"The pen is mightier because it can let us avoid fighting," X countered.</p>
<p>"Reploids are already fighting!" Zero said. "It's too late! And even if you have a pen and use a pen, it's still a good thing to have a sword with you."</p>
<p>A notion occurred to X. He raised his hand in front of him, swapped it to buster. "I suppose I always have," he said reluctantly.</p>
<p>"Then use it!" Zero insisted.</p>
<p>"No," said X, and his hand returned. "There are other ways, better ways…"</p>
<p>"Then do that," Zero said.</p>
<p>"I am. I'm being a healer, a conscience, a bringer of hope…"</p>
<p>"Too small, too small, too small!" Zero said. Once more he attacked. X tried to react, tried to fade away to maintain range, but Zero was having none of that. He knocked the blue android on to his back and, when X moved to get to his feet again, planted a foot on X's chest and ground him into the dirt.</p>
<p>"There's more to you than this," Zero said. "You're holding back on me, and I don't understand why. All these connections you've made... I have one, and it's to you, and I can feel... if it's anything like what you have, to all these people... how much pain are you in? How much does this have to hurt? And still you won't act! I don't understand! What are you waiting for? <em>What are you afraid of?!</em>"</p>
<p>Zero had leaned in close. When X lifted his arm, it was almost in Zero's face, pointed just to the side. The bolt of plasma X unleashed was larger than the buster emitter. Zero's hair blew first to one side, then back to the other, in the wash of the ravenous energy. X had not limited that shot, and they both knew it would have melted Zero's face off.</p>
<p>X let himself sink back to the ground. His arm fell to his side. "Myself," he said.</p>
<p>Zero frowned. "What?" he said, perturbed.</p>
<p>"I know I have power," X said. "I had power... when I helped build the reploids. That was an act of power, an act that changed the world. So yes, I know that I can do things that matter. And that's what's so terrifying. Because I had enough power to change the world, but not enough to make that change something positive, something good. It went out of my control and became this... nightmare. What I meant to do was perverted, and I couldn't stop it. So before I exercise that much power again, I need to know. I need to feel like... like it'll work this time."</p>
<p>"That's your excuse?" Zero said with a scowl. "You're afraid that you might mess up, so you wrap yourself in reasons that it's better to do nothing?"</p>
<p>"It's not just that," X said, but although he remembered there being other reasons, he'd almost forgotten what they were. "You're right, I am in pain, and that's another reason I have to be careful. Pain is a strong motivator, but it doesn't help you think. It clouds judgment. It makes it so the only thing you can think about is removing the pain. I have to think higher than that, farther than..."</p>
<p>Zero had heard enough. He stepped back. Disgust was written over his face. "Take your helmet off," he commanded.</p>
<p>"Do what?" X asked, with more energy than he'd expected.</p>
<p>"Take it off," Zero said. "My tactical is trying to assign you an Intent to Attack of zero. Do you know what that means, X? It means you're practically dead! It means that part of me thinks you'll never raise a weapon like you mean it. No, more than that. It thinks you'll never be a threat of any kind, because you'll never flex the power you have. That makes you a tactical liability, and that means you don't deserve to have your abilities. What's the point of you having a helmet like that? It'll never matter. So take it off, and let me give it to someone who needs it."</p>
<p>"No!" said X. "This... it's not just equipment. This helmet is part of me."</p>
<p>Zero gave X an incredulous look- something along the lines of, 'That's what I've been trying to tell you!'</p>
<p>X's mouth formed into an 'o'.</p>
<p>"And if you won't fight- and that's ridiculous, by the way- if you won't fight, then use the other kinds of power you have. Be the Father of All. Use the Maverick Medic. Those are forms of power, too. Power you can apply to the strategic problems that I know you see. But if you won't, then you're failing your children, X. You're failing me. Because we- I- need you."</p>
<p>"What's so ridiculous about me not fighting?" X said, moving into a sitting position. "I wouldn't even be good at it."</p>
<p>Zero couldn't believe what he'd just heard. His face reflected that.</p>
<p>"What?" said X, unnerved.</p>
<p>"The punishment I hit you with would have torn Sigma apart," Zero said. "And look at you."</p>
<p>X did. His armor was scuffed a little, and dusty, and it sure looked like it had been hit hard- but if he'd taken any permanent damage, anything that was a major threat, no one could tell.</p>
<p>"Even as we fought, you improved twenty percent beyond your baseline," Zero went on. "You're picking it up like you were made to do it. Don't tell me you weren't built to fight. I know what I see."</p>
<p>"And you had to haul me all the way out here to do it?" X said.</p>
<p>Zero looked almost embarrassed. "I think more clearly like this. I... if I convince tactical that it's an attack, it actually helps for a change."</p>
<p>That made X laugh, which Zero didn't understand at all. "Using words like weapons," he mused. "You know, no one else on the planet would talk to me like that."</p>
<p>"Someone needed to," said Zero. For all that his demeanor had twisted during their exchange, his previous look of distance and coolness had returned.</p>
<p>"Maybe," X said. He stood. "I'm glad you're my friend, Zero. Really, you're my only friend."</p>
<p>Zero frowned. "You engage in friend-type behavior with everyone, though."</p>
<p>"To some extent, sure," X replied. "But... it's not the same."</p>
<p>Zero frowned. "Are you saying that, with all of your connections, you don't feel like you have friends?"</p>
<p>"I don't know how to describe it," X said. He especially didn't know how to describe it to someone who hadn't had the definition of friend, but he had too much tact to voice that.</p>
<p>He would have had to look into Zero's design to be sure, but he was confident that Zero was a fundamentally different design. He wasn't of Dr. Light's lineage. What did that mean? He wasn't a reploid. But X, even with the design commonality with reploids, wasn't himself a reploid… and, in that regard at least, he was exactly like Zero.</p>
<p>In some ways, X felt closer to this addled, rampage-prone warbot than he did to his own children.</p>
<p>He didn't know how he felt about that.</p>
<p>Zero's mouth was open to respond- but he turned his head instead.</p>
<p>"I heard it too," X confirmed. "Radio transmission from the north."</p>
<p>"On a Maverick circuit," Zero added.</p>
<p>"If we go in that direction the signal should clean up," X said. "Let's go."</p>
<p>Both started running in that direction, and it wasn't long before the signal was steady enough to be understood. "X? X, are you there?"</p>
<p>"I'm here," X replied. "What's wrong?" Because something had to be wrong for a Maverick to be out here chasing him...</p>
<p>"X! Thank Light. X, it's Mogg. Did you know a big assault on Abel City was happening tonight?"</p>
<p>"A what?!"</p>
<p>"That's what I thought. We've been snookered. Someone's playing us. We Mavericks are in combat, hammering Abel City, and you're... X, your children need you. They need your help."</p>
<p>The words worked.</p>
<p>X's hands balled up into tight fists. He accelerated- his boosters started flashing, lengthening his strides and doubling his speed. Zero was initially left behind, but soon was in a tail position right behind. Not that X noticed. All his focus was on movement.</p>
<p>"Mogg, why can't I teleport out?" X asked.</p>
<p>"'Cause the satellite ain't where you thought it was. I don't know the mechanics, but it can't see you. You have to come north to where I am- I just teleported in, so if you get to me you can teleport out."</p>
<p>"We'll be there soon," Zero said, to X's surprise. X turned his head. "It seemed like the thing to say," Zero said.</p>
<p>X nodded. It was.</p>
<p>As soon as he could move. As fast as his legs could carry him.</p>
<p>For the first time since his activation, X was operating at one hundred percent of capacity.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It was a bad night to be a member of the rank and file.</p>
<p>"Excuse me, ma'am," said the ACPD patrolman. "I can't let you pass. We're clearing the streets. I need you to pull the truck out of the road, and I need you to get out."</p>
<p>The woman turned to the patrolman, raised an inhuman fist, and pointed a middle finger skyward.</p>
<p>"Ma'am," the patrolman said, half in warning.</p>
<p>"Sorry, officer," said the woman. "It's a prosthetic, it acts up sometimes..." She brought her other hand around and pushed the middle finger down, but as soon as the hand was removed, the middle finger popped back up again. "This is so embarrassing," she said with an insincere laugh. "I'll have this looked at, honest, officer, it's just..." She pried the finger down again and tucked it into the fist. It held for a moment, and then she gave the officer the bird yet again.</p>
<p>"Get out of the car, ma'am," said the patrolman.</p>
<p>Her face turned into a storm of anger. "Officer, shouldn't you be hunting Mavericks right now? I..." she brought a plastic-encased ID card up, "am Haley Paschal, I work for City Hall, and I'm a see-aych fourteen. That's equivalent to a Guardian Force lieutenant colonel. And no Guardian Force lieutenant colonel has the responsibilities I do, or answers to the people I do. Now, assuming that I haven't blown your brain already, let me make this very simple for you. I'm on a vital errand related to the uprising, the sort of errand that will keep people like you from being turned into hamburger, and you are slowing me down. If you don't want to have to explain to your chief- no, if you don't want your <em>chief</em> to have to explain to the <em>Guardian Council</em>- why my errand was delayed, then I need you to get the fuck out of my way!"</p>
<p>The patrolman stumbled backwards at all of this. On a night where he'd heard plenty of horrors happening to his fellows, having to deal with one right in front of him was a little much. "Have a nice night, ma'am, and stay away from jay-twelve."</p>
<p>"I'll take the long way," Haley said, courteous as suddenly as she'd been angry. "Thank you, officer. I hope you survive the night." As she rolled the window up, she gave him the finger one last time- but with her flesh-and-blood hand this time, before gripping the wheel with two perfectly functional hands. Before the officer could really respond, she was pulling away again.</p>
<p>In the seats behind her, three humans and five reploids shared terrified glances.</p>
<p>"I've always wanted to do that," Haley said, almost giddy.</p>
<p>"Like you always wanted to take on the security guard at the compound?" asked one of her passengers.</p>
<p>"He had that coming to him. Don't worry, he'll be fine. It was just pepper spray."</p>
<p>"You had pepper spray built in to your arm?"</p>
<p>"What, and you're not going to congratulate me on my foresight?"</p>
<p>One of the reploids banged his knee. "Oh no, we forgot Benedict!"</p>
<p>"We didn't forget him," said Haley, voice bitter.</p>
<p>"But... but he's back there... the Mavericks were hitting there right after we got out!"</p>
<p>"I am aware of it," Haley said, and her tone hadn't changed. "That's the idea. That bastard sold out my husband. That's why he's still there, and all of you are with me."</p>
<p>No one dared speak up against that.</p>
<p>"Don't worry," she said. "I'm going to take all of you somewhere safe. Well... safe as we can make it, given the circumstances."</p>
<p>Once more the truck's passengers fell silent. A shared understanding arose amongst them: being under Haley Paschal's protection was probably the safest place they could possibly be.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Wily watched with approval as the Mavericks went about their business. This new offensive was going well, and when it was over, those who'd tried to bury him- who'd tried to obliterate the memory of him- would know ten flavors of pain.</p>
<p>He remembered, once upon a time when he was limited to a human body, some of the slurs people had hurled at him. One of the ones that annoyed him most was when people would accuse him of developing viruses. As if developing viruses wasn't something obvious, something that anyone could think to do! As if corporations didn't skimp on security features in the name of profit anyway, meaning that "good enough" viruses were trivial. And yes, he had developed one virus- the best one, roboenza, just so people would know what he could do if he had a mind to.</p>
<p>But that wasn't his preferred method. The ultimate virus wasn't a pathogen, or a bundle of malicious code. Marx knew the answer. The most insidious virus was an idea. Against something external like roboenza, the afflicted knew what was happening to them, and fought it as best they could. An idea, on the other hand... an idea changed people's minds. When an idea took root, the afflicted adopted it, pursued it. They deliberately became new vectors.</p>
<p>Now his new virus carrier, Sigma scion of Light, was spreading the virus of Wily's hatred far and wide.</p>
<p>That was most satisfying.</p>
<p>Not even this complication with the reploids getting X early could bother him. He decided he'd use this as an opportunity instead. Some quick calculations gave an estimate of when they'd be close enough to the satellite for communications but too far still for teleportation. (Wily took a moment to pity the poor soul, back in 20XX, who didn't think there was a difference. Packet loss in communications was just the cost of doing business. When teleporting, it was rather more dire.)</p>
<p>There... another minute or so and he'd start trying to contact Zero. For a moment, he thought about how disobedient Zero was being of late. Would he actually strike on command?</p>
<p>Sure, of course he would. X was a Lightbot, Zero was a Wilybot, and ever since the families had split (no thanks to Rock) they hadn't come together again. Zero wouldn't be able to bridge that gap- not when the alternative was total victory. That would be an irresistible carrot.</p>
<p>As Wily had built Zero, as he knew how Zero worked, so he knew how Zero would act in the moment of crisis.</p>
<p>"Zero," he transmitted. "Zero, it's time."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Zero almost stumbled. He hadn't expected a transmission from Serges. Sure, it was encrypted, but it was over the same circuits the Mavericks used. That was overt for him.</p>
<p>He glanced guiltily at X, but the blue android never broke stride. If he'd detected anything, he said nothing. All of his attention was on maintaining speed. Which Zero's should be, too, to keep up- he'd lost some distance fretting over whispers.</p>
<p>"Zero, it's time."</p>
<p>Didn't Serges have anything better to do? Didn't he know Zero was busy? Zero wasn't sure how to articulate this, so he settled for a quick, "Time for what?"</p>
<p>"Time to kill X."</p>
<p>This time Zero did stumble, though with his superhuman grace it was hard to tell. "What?" he said in disbelief.</p>
<p>"This is your chance. You're all away from the Mavericks, so they'll never know what happened, and they're distracted right now. They're distracted while they conquer a city for you. All you have to do is fight, like you want to. Indulge yourself. Fight and kill X, come back, and victory will be yours. You'll be able to take over with ease."</p>
<p>"No!"</p>
<p>"...no what?"</p>
<p>"I won't kill X!"</p>
<p>Serges' voice was much less indulgent this time. "He's your enemy!"</p>
<p>"How many times do I have to tell you? X will be my enemy when I say he's my enemy! And I say he's my friend instead. So, no, I won't kill him!"</p>
<p>"Don't you want to win? Don't you want to triumph? Don't you want to destroy the most powerful enemy of all and guarantee your safety forever?"</p>
<p>"Yes. That's why X is my friend. X has power over all reploids. With him as my friend, our power is shared, so I have power over all reploids. That is victory."</p>
<p>"No!"</p>
<p>"I'm just doing what you built me to do," Zero said, with a little relish. "I'm maximizing my power and my chances of survival."</p>
<p>"Relying on that Lightbot is suicide, you fool! Kill him now, while he doesn't expect it!"</p>
<p>"I don't like how you keep wanting my friend to die," Zero said, growing bolder. "We'll have to talk when I get back."</p>
<p>Serges' voice was a dangerous hiss, like escaping steam. "When you get back? Sorry to say, but that might be a while."</p>
<p>The dagger of pain that stabbed Zero's brain caused him to wipe out, slide, and shout out in agony. His eyes screwed shut- no processing available to perceive visuals, not when every circuit was on fire. He writhed and rolled, trying to do something- anything!- that might make a difference, but no, there was no escape, the whole world was an ocean of agony.</p>
<p>Very dimly, distantly, he heard X's voice. No way to tell what was said- that required thinking, which Zero couldn't do- but tactical was still running, at least a little bit, and tactical knew that X must have stopped.</p>
<p>"Ser... ges," he grunted through clenched teeth. It took all his focus, all of his strength of will and mind, to manage even one syllable at a time. The pain was everywhere, inside his head, inside his eyes, thrumming in every pseudo-muscle. Moving hurt. Staying still hurt. No escape. "Or... ders..."</p>
<p>More noises from X. Still couldn't process. Zero summoned up everything he had and shouted, "Go!"</p>
<p>And then the pain vanished.</p>
<p>It was so abrupt that Zero continued to spasm even after the cause was gone. His body still thought he was hurting even when the sensations disappeared.</p>
<p>Had Serges stopped? Zero didn't dare contact him and find out, anything could result from that and it was sure to be bad no matter what. Slowly, he pried his eyelids open, carefully in case the pain started again.</p>
<p>It was darker than he remembered. He must be in something's shadow. A little more his eyes crept open- tentatively, with effort- and he saw what shadow he was in.</p>
<p>X's shadow.</p>
<p>X's body was arced over Zero's. The android's face was taut with exertion. Even so, when Zero's eyes crept open, X managed a smile. "I was hoping that would work," he said.</p>
<p>Amazement swept through Zero. "What did you do?"</p>
<p>"I'm jamming Serges' signal," X said. "I'm closer to you than the satellite is, and I'm blasting noise out on as many frequencies as I can manage. Which isn't easy," he added wryly. "You don't happen to know what frequency this pain signal comes in on, do you?"</p>
<p>"No," Zero replied. "I don't process the signal. By the time it hits my brain all I know is pain."</p>
<p>"Really? That's... actually good to know."</p>
<p>"How?" said Zero. "You can't stay here and stand over me forever. You heard what that Maverick said, your children need you!"</p>
<p>"You need me, too," X said. "I won't abandon you if there's a chance I can help you."</p>
<p>Hope bubbled up inside Zero. "Help? What do you mean?"</p>
<p>"I think... if you let me... I think I can remove this 'pain circuit'. I think I know how it's done."</p>
<p>Orders, Zero knew, were his only weakness. Tactical was kicking and screaming and demanding he take this opportunity to fix that weakness. He'd never known how, before, or he would have tried to do it himself. But if X did...</p>
<p>Then Zero wouldn't just be free from Orders. He'd be able to show Serges, once and for all, how this friendship was strength, not folly.</p>
<p>Victory.</p>
<p>And yet... a part of him, a part Serges had not installed, hesitated. "What if you can't?" he said. "What if you waste time here, with me, while your children need you?"</p>
<p>To his surprise, X looked proud. "I'm glad you can say things like that," he said. "So how about a deal. Three minutes. If I can't fix you in three minutes, I'll leave you and then come back."</p>
<p>"Alright," Zero said.</p>
<p>"I'll need a little freedom to move around, and I'll need you to stay still," X said. A panel on his leg had popped open; something silvery glinted from inside. "Can you go down to stage one activation?"</p>
<p>"It won't stop the pain," Zero said. "I'll feel it, I just won't be able to move."</p>
<p>"That's good. I mean," he said apologetically, "it's not good that you'll be in pain, but it suggests that I'm on the right track."</p>
<p>Zero looked up at X. To go to phase one, to open himself completely to the predations of another... it was alien to him. Tactical warned it was suicide. There'd be no chance of fighting back, none at all. Serges would not approve.</p>
<p>But if Zero couldn't trust X, who could he trust? No one, that was Serges' whole point. Everything and everyone was a danger to Zero, which was why they all had to be put under Zero's heel.</p>
<p>That was a fallacy, though. X had shown him the truth, had shown him in the first five seconds they'd known each other. <em>I don't have to defend myself from you.</em></p>
<p>It was worth the chance.</p>
<p>Zero let his head rest on the ground, said, "Wake me when you're done," rattled off a string of alpha-numerics that X could use to do it, and then...</p>
<p>...surrendered.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Unh... be careful, rust-bucket! Apply pressure, don't push the rag through me!"</p>
<p>"Sorry, sorry," the reploid said. If it had been anybody else uttering a slur like that, the reploid would have been sorely pressed not to reveal his Maverickism. It was Longinus, though, and Longinus practically was a reploid. He was given more leeway than a normal human. Especially when he had a big bloody hole in his abdomen. And doubly especially when no one in the block knew any human anatomy.</p>
<p>"I wish I could have done more," Douglas said.</p>
<p>Longinus gave him a disbelieving look. "You're kidding, right? That was a magrifle, or something like it. If you hadn't taken that hit and slowed it down, it would have taken my intestines, dragged them out the other side of my body, and splattered them all over the wall."</p>
<p>Douglas scratched his head. "That sounds..." what was an intestine, anyway? "...bad."</p>
<p>"'Sides, look at yourself," Longinus said. "I'm no mechanic, but that looks like a mess."</p>
<p>Douglas looked down- as much as he was able; much like Longinus, his abdomen was shattered. "Yeah, it's not good," Douglas said. "I'm still figuring out all the stuff I can't do anymore."</p>
<p>"Probably shouldn't move much," Longinus said.</p>
<p>"Yeah. I won't until I know better. What about you?"</p>
<p>Longinus grimaced instead of answering. "Hey," he said to his impromptu nurse, "do you have somewhere you can get water? Get a new cloth, soak it in water, and bring it back. Put my hand over the bandage for now, I'll hold it down."</p>
<p>Douglas held his tongue until their helper had departed. "That bad, huh?"</p>
<p>Longinus tried to laugh, but it morphed into a moan almost immediately. "It's taken ya three years and change, but you're catching on to human trickery."</p>
<p>"I had a lot of experience dealing with it," Douglas said with a smile.</p>
<p>Longinus knew the joke was about him, and smiled despite himself. "Fair enough." Weak fingers pushed against the wound. "How pale have I gotten?"</p>
<p>"Uh..." Douglas' color perception was much above average, and for a moment he wasn't sure how to answer. "You're... a little paler. Not as pale as I've seen."</p>
<p>"Gotcha. Look, Douglas, there's no point beating around the bush. This... this'll probably kill me."</p>
<p>"Intestines are that important, huh?" said Douglas.</p>
<p>"It's not that. I'm going to bleed out. My insides are all shot to hell, and so the goes-ins are gonna turn into goes-outs. That's bad."</p>
<p>"I believe you," Douglas said. He closed his eyes. "I suppose we need to get you to a hospital, then."</p>
<p>"How? You heard what went down, same as I did. Dichotomy Protocol. If a reploid is out there carrying an injured human, whaddya supposed the Hunters will assume?"</p>
<p>"You got a... waitaminute. They'll be so angry that a reploid hurt a human that they'll kill the reploid, which will kill the human. Do I have that straight?"</p>
<p>"Sounds about right."</p>
<p>"Light help us."</p>
<p>"He'd better. What about you?"</p>
<p>"Huh?"</p>
<p>"You didn't fool me. You know how bad you're hurt. Remember, we've both been telling lies our whole lives, but I've got a couple decades of practice more than you. So spill."</p>
<p>"I'll be scrapped," Douglas said. "Repairing this kind of damage? That'd cost a pretty penny. Cheaper to... move on."</p>
<p>"Can't you fix yourself?" Longinus asked. "I've seen you do some pretty nifty things."</p>
<p>"I'm not that kind of mechanic," Douglas said. "I don't know reploid systems. I never did. It'd pretty much take the Maverick Medic himself to fix me now. And we've had a distinct lack of Maverick Medic around these days."</p>
<p>"Not that it really matters," Longinus said after a moment. "We're all dead, every single one of us."</p>
<p>"What makes you say that?" Douglas said, startled.</p>
<p>"Dichotomy Protocol," Longinus said. "Any unsupervised reploids are assumed Mavericks... and that purple guy fragged the gates, the guard shack, and a couple of guards. What does that mean for the reploids in this block?"</p>
<p>Douglas' eyes widened in horror. "We've got to contact SigMav," he said. "Maybe they can..."</p>
<p>"...do what? There ain't a transport out there that'll move ten thousand reploids. Besides, how long does it take us to get a message to SigMav? And I mean best-case scenario, balls-out the whole way."</p>
<p>Douglas grimaced. "Six hours."</p>
<p>"Think it'll take six hours for City Hall to get to us?"</p>
<p>The room went quiet when the human Maverick finished speaking.</p>
<p>"So what are we gonna do?" said Douglas.</p>
<p>"We always knew a day might come where we'd have to make a stand," Longinus said. "Looks like that day's come. But first... can you reach my pocket from there?"</p>
<p>"I think so. Why?"</p>
<p>"There's a carton in there. I'd owe ya one if you got it for me."</p>
<p>"Sheesh, how many do you owe me by now? Don't answer that. Gimme a second." The carton was much abused. Every corner was tattered and its seams were coming apart. It rattled when Douglas shook it. "What's in there?"</p>
<p>"A cylinder. Grab it and hand it to me."</p>
<p>Douglas complied. The cylinder was as well-worn as the carton, bent in three places, and less than clean. He handed it to Longinus. Longinus took it with his off-hand and pressed it between his lips.</p>
<p>Several seconds elapsed before Longinus let his head slump back against the wall. "Well, fuck," he said. "I forgot my lighter."</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: The End of Subtlety</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. The End of Subtlety</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Zero came to, there was no trace of pain. That was a relief.</p>
<p>There remained an uneasy, uncomfortable feeling in his head, but that was receding. Zero opened his eyes. His head was lying in X's lap. He was in the blue robot's shadow again, although with the sun almost down even this far west it wasn't much of a shadow.</p>
<p>"Did you get it?" Zero asked, as tactical demanded. He had to know about anything that could leave him defenseless, and Orders certainly qualified.</p>
<p>"I'm not jamming any signals," X said. "So either I got it or the signal stopped."</p>
<p>Zero reviewed what Serges had said, and remembered how long Serges was willing to leave Orders on when he was trying to make a point. "I don't think the signal stopped."</p>
<p>"Then there you go," X said. "How do you feel?"</p>
<p>"Dusty," said Zero, rising. He looked around, wincing into the wind as it carried grit towards him. "You really opened me up in a place like this, where any of this garbage could have gotten into my systems... remind me why I agreed to that."</p>
<p>"You were under duress," X said apologetically. "I promise it was a good idea at the time."</p>
<p>"Actually," Zero allowed, "it's not as bad as I'd feared. Self-repair's cleaning it up, but it's not that much. Did you... do something?"</p>
<p>X smiled. "I can't tell you all my secrets," he said playfully, but he rubbed his forearm as he did. Zero had to wonder, just what were those arms capable of? Cradling a defective warbot, repairing the critically injured... and how much more? He'd thought he had an idea. Now he wasn't so sure.</p>
<p>"You don't fully trust me, then?" he asked X.</p>
<p>X looked mortified. "No, no, that's not what I meant! It's just... an expression. An idiom."</p>
<p>"Oh," said Zero, and took X's word for it. Maybe X had appreciated, then, how much trust Zero had shown by putting himself at X's mercy. Then something else occurred to him, and he frowned. "You said you wouldn't take more than three minutes working on me. My clock says it was almost four."</p>
<p>"Huh," X said. "Wouldn't you know- it looks like I forgot to start my timer. Whoops."</p>
<p>And before Zero could fully process what that meant for a being as meticulous as X, the blue robot was racing north again, hunting signal strength, seeking the satellite footprint that would let him teleport away.</p>
<p>Zero was after him in a moment. "So how'd you do it?" he asked.</p>
<p>"The clue was when you said you didn't know anything about the signal itself. That meant the signal was processed before it reached your brain. The easiest place to do that would be in the radio's circuitry. I looked, and that's exactly where it was. Now listen, Zero," he said sternly, "you have to tell your self-repair system not to fix what I did. You don't want it to add that feature back in, do you?"</p>
<p>"No. Done," Zero said.</p>
<p>"Wonderful," said X, beaming. "Glad to help. Now, let's move faster." He accelerated; Zero had to work to keep up.</p>
<p>Something had been bothering Zero. "X," he said, "you wanted to go back the entire time you were working on me, didn't you?"</p>
<p>"Of course I did. But I couldn't, because you needed me."</p>
<p>Zero's needs trumped X's wants. How strange this was to Zero. How marvelous. Now that Zero thought about it, he couldn't remember Serges ever bending to what Zero wanted. He'd tried to steer Zero, more than anything, steer him towards wanting what Serges wanted. That wasn't X at all. X didn't try to force people to come to him. He went to them... all the time, for everyone, as far as Zero could tell.</p>
<p>He could barely imagine what that must be like.</p>
<p>Tactical whispered that there was danger there, that extending so far to help others meet their objectives imperiled Zero meeting his. But what did tactical know, anyway? It thought so small.</p>
<p>When Zero woke up for the first time, he didn't have much other than tactical. Zero was sure of that. He didn't have any memories from that time, but he had tactical's logs, so that subroutine must have been active. Not just active. If Zero's guess was right, it had ruled him.</p>
<p>He couldn't be sure; he was broken, after all, as Serges was so fond of reminding him.</p>
<p>That was it, wasn't it?</p>
<p>In Serges' mind, Zero was broken and a slave to his tactical, so he kept treating Zero like that. X didn't- he rejected the notion that anything was wrong with Zero, even though something obviously was. X treated Zero like he was...</p>
<p>...more.</p>
<p>That's how Zero knew he could be more.</p>
<p>And that's why Zero knew he wanted to be more.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"New target!"</p>
<p>Stein paused at the sound of Vile's voice. "Again?" he said.</p>
<p>"Yes, again. I need more!"</p>
<p>That didn't seem possible. How fast was Vile moving? Stein reviewed- even with a stop back at Maverick Home to resupply, Vile had hit almost forty percent more targets than the next fastest team. What was he doing, really?</p>
<p>Impossible to tell from this distance. He couldn't see what Vile was up to. He had to take the maniac's word for it.</p>
<p>While Stein hesitated, circumstances changed. The doors opened, and all other thoughts fled him.</p>
<p>It was X, but not as Stein had ever known him. He looked dusty and dirty and banged up, where before it had seemed like nothing could ever touch him. His face was firm and his gaze was focused. And he wore a helmet, which Stein had never seen before- both the helmet and the idea of X needing armor were almost absurd.</p>
<p>Zero walked in with X, clearly in-formation on X's wing. While X's eyes were fixed on the map table, Zero's swept and roamed. Stein got the feeling Zero knew more about who was where doing what than Stein did.</p>
<p>X stopped at the table. He looked down at the charts of targets attacked and targets to attack. His eyes grew tighter as he looked. It made Stein want to squirm.</p>
<p>"Who built this target list?" asked X- quietly, but everyone heard him.</p>
<p>Stein tried to figure out who was supposed to answer X. With an uncomfortable start he realized that he was the closest reploid to X, which probably made it his job. "We all did," he managed, and at the sound all the other planners nodded vigorously. Yes, yes- it was a groupthink project.</p>
<p>"And Sigma approved it?" X asked.</p>
<p>"Of course he did," said Stein, a bit more confidently.</p>
<p>"I was afraid you'd say that. But then, it wasn't the right question. Let's try this again. Who initiated this list? Who designed it? Who told you the sorts of things to put on it?"</p>
<p>Zero's eyes locked on to Serges' core. His expression was at once demanding and defiant. He said nothing, though, and Serges' core remained silent and dim. Maybe it was Stein's imagination, but he felt as if the air was thicker in the space between the ghost and the demon.</p>
<p>Oh! The question. Stein tried to come up with an answer. He was spurred when X, too, looked over at Serges. "It wasn't him," Stein hurried to say. "Really, it was... well, Sigma. He had us expand the target list, and he picked out a couple himself."</p>
<p>X's face grew grim. "I've messed up," he said. "I let this happen. So I need to be the one to stop it." He looked at Stein, who was suddenly self-conscious.</p>
<p>What was wrong with the target list? Had they done their jobs wrong? No- they'd double-checked each one, targeting with a side of peer-review. It was a math problem, nothing more. Just an optimization problem. If the Mavericks could get there (which teleportation trivialized) with enough strength to overcome the defenses, then that was a good target package. If the target packages could be strung together in such a way that they all connected while staying inside the Mavericks' means, deconflicted in time and space and properly coordinated, then the plan was a good plan.</p>
<p>That was math, that was. One great "equals" sign. That was all there was to the war, wasn't it?</p>
<p>Wasn't it?</p>
<p>X looked at Stein, and even though Stein expected to see judgment there was none to be found. "I will need a satellite-capable radio," he said. "Is there a call-all frequency?"</p>
<p>"Yeah- everyone's guarding sixteen," Stein said as he handed the radio over with fumbling fingers.</p>
<p>X got a firm hold despite Stein's bumbling, and held the radio in his hand for a moment. All eyes were on him, but he didn't seem to notice. He inhaled deeply, opened his mouth-</p>
<p>-and the world turned.</p>
<p>"Recall, recall, recall, ex-ess-one-zero-zero-two, recall, recall, recall."</p>
<p>Despite himself, Stein couldn't keep from asking, "You know the recall code?"</p>
<p>"I <em>designed</em> the recall code," X answered. "Although its original purpose was to keep us from falling into traps..."</p>
<p>A new voice crackled over the call-all circuit. "This is Sigma actual. Disregard the recall order. Continue your missions."</p>
<p>The reploids' gazes returned to X, Stein's certainly included. X frowned, but his voice never wavered when he spoke. "This is X, Father of All. The recall procedure is absolute. No discretion. Recall, recall, recall, ex-ess-one-zero-zero-two, recall, recall, recall."</p>
<p>He lowered the radio. His voice was louder this time, to help it carry. "Coordinate the withdrawal," he commanded the staff. "Make sure we don't teleport on top of ourselves. Maintain one communications team in the city. Bring everyone else home."</p>
<p>There was a moment of silence as people processed this, and then voices sprang up and became a roar. Through it, Stein heard X say to Zero, "Well, you wanted me to exercise my power. How's this?"</p>
<p>Zero broke his eye-lock on Serges to look at X. "It's a start," he allowed. "I just don't understand it."</p>
<p>"I'll explain as soon as I have time," X promised.</p>
<p>"When will that be?"</p>
<p>X looked around, eyes touching on everyone and everything. "At the rate we're going..." He grimaced. "Maybe next year."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Sigma stood, surrounded by the body parts of his enemies, and fumed.</p>
<p>What was X doing? Sigma had the humans reeling, the Hunters were off the table unless the Mavericks ran directly into them, now they were into the realm where they could inflict meaningful harm... and X called them off?</p>
<p>How did X think he could do this, anyway? Why did he think he could? He'd made Sigma commander of the Mavericks for a reason. X wasn't commander, that wasn't his role. The Mavericks weren't his to direct. They were Sigma's. X could come in after the fighting was over, after Sigma had made absolutely sure that the reploid race was safe. Until then, he needed to stay out of the way.</p>
<p>Sigma had thought that X understood this. So... what was he doing?</p>
<p>This was going to be a disaster! Now, with the pressure off, City Hall would have a chance to regroup and recover. They'd regenerate their command structure, and this time the Mavericks wouldn't have visibility on it. They wouldn't know where to find and destroy it, and they'd waste time and lives looking. And now that the teleportation card had been played, City Hall was sure to take other measures...</p>
<p>Except "other measures" was a euphemism. With their noses bloodied, City Hall was going to be enraged. Who knew what they were going to do to reploids now?</p>
<p>What could X be thinking?!</p>
<p>Whatever his intentions, he'd chosen the strongest tool. Recall couldn't be countermanded- that was the point of that keyword. Once it was invoked, there was no stopping it, despite Sigma's attempts to the contrary. The Mavericks had to be disengaging all over the city now.</p>
<p>This couldn't be happening- he'd been so close! Victory for the Mavericks- for reploids- <em>his</em> victory- it was slipping away and there was nothing he could do about it! He had to double back, get them all turned around and back into Abel City, put the pressure back on before this chance was lost... but how could he be sure X wouldn't just recall them again?</p>
<p>No, that problem had to be addressed before the offensive could resume. He and X needed to have a talk. Immediately.</p>
<p>He called Maverick Home- and not on the all-call frequency, either. "Put X on the line," he said.</p>
<p>A few moments later he heard, "This is X."</p>
<p>Sigma couldn't help himself. "Why did you stop us?"</p>
<p>"I stopped a mistake, as soon as I could. I'm just sorry I didn't prevent it in the first place. Sigma, we need to discuss this."</p>
<p>That was a relief. So X understood that much, at least. "I was thinking the same thing. Meet me at..." Sigma tried for a moment to think of a good place- ah. "Underground station three."</p>
<p>"Why there?"</p>
<p>"Because no one else will be there. Our unity of command is damaged enough."</p>
<p>"I... guess that's one of the things we have to talk about. Alright. I'll be there soon."</p>
<p>"Go now," Sigma said in a voice of command.</p>
<p>It didn't move X at all. "We have wounded coming in. Wounded I wasn't able to treat before." Sigma winced- that was the most passive-aggressive critique he'd ever heard. If X knew why he'd been sent away, at least. "I will treat any critical injuries, and then I'll join you."</p>
<p>Sigma's internal clock ticked loudly in his mind. "Time is critical here, X!"</p>
<p>"I agree. Odds of a full recovery get worse the longer a patient goes without care. Luckily, I had Alia trained enough to give basic care."</p>
<p>Was that... another slam? Was X chewing Sigma out? Sigma didn't know if he could tell. "Hurry, then. And come alone," he added. It wouldn't do for the Mavericks to see an argument like this was sure to be.</p>
<p>"I..." X paused. Sigma wondered why. Something had to be happening there. "...I can't guarantee that, Sigma."</p>
<p>"Come alone," Sigma insisted. If X was going to be difficult, well, he wouldn't bend to X's wishes, either.</p>
<p>"I'll be there soon," X said.</p>
<p>That, Sigma knew, wasn't agreement. Fine. If X wanted to play that way... but who was still in the city? Who would be stubborn enough to resist the recall order as long as possible?</p>
<p>Ah- Sigma knew who. And that same person wouldn't bend his knee to X automatically. One of the few who wouldn't.</p>
<p>"Vile," Sigma transmitted, "are you still in the city?"</p>
<p>"Tell me we're not actually stopping," the warbot radioed back. His voice held both contempt and hope.</p>
<p>"We are, but only for a minute," Sigma said. "I'm going to underground station three. X will be coming to join me soon. I need you to... make sure he comes to me alone."</p>
<p>"I can do that," Vile replied.</p>
<p>"Good. You have a few minutes to get there."</p>
<p>"Wonderful," Vile said. So preoccupied was Sigma with planning his talk with X that the dangerous coo in Vile's voice went unnoticed.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"ACPD sure has gone quiet," Maria Pritchard said.</p>
<p>"Dispatch has," George said. "The actual cops are probably all over the working channels."</p>
<p>"Why would Dispatch go quiet at a time like this?"</p>
<p>George didn't have an answer to that. "Where are we going now, ma'am?"</p>
<p>"We don't know where to go," she said. "We were going to find where ACPD was in action, but we keep getting turned around trying to find them."</p>
<p>Her tone was accusatory, as if it was George's fault that their destinations kept changing. They should have picked one destination and just stuck with it, that was George's opinion, but nooooo, Maria kept trying to chase the newest report. They were always two steps behind, and after all of their driving they still didn't have a scoop.</p>
<p>Easily distracted by shiny objects, she was. Or would it be 'shiny noises' in this case?</p>
<p>"What channels are the working channels?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Don't know," George said. "Huh. Now that I think about it, even if Dispatch was done sending people out, those cops would still be sending reports back."</p>
<p>"What does that mean, George?" Maria said impatiently.</p>
<p>"It means... well, I don't know."</p>
<p>"Then what use are you?"</p>
<p>That stung. "I don't know because we aren't there," George said, controlling his voice. "But if I had to guess, I think that Dispatch itself might have been hit."</p>
<p>"That would be a story," Maria said. Her eyes lit up. "Could we get there?"</p>
<p>"Not quickly. We're in the double-yous... double-you six, I think? Dispatch is- was- I don't know, somewhere in the ees or effs. That's far," he added when she didn't seem to respond.</p>
<p>"That wasn't very nice of the Mavericks," Maria said unironically. "They always hit at odd hours, and we always seem to be far away. It's inconvenient."</p>
<p>"I'll talk to them about it," said George drily.</p>
<p>"See that you do," Maria said, and that was that. George had forgotten. Sarcasm was lost on her.</p>
<p>"It'll be hard for ACPD to react without Dispatch," he said. "The car radios don't reach all the way across town. Who knows? They might have to take over the television station."</p>
<p>"I'm not worried about that," Maria said.</p>
<p>"You're not?"</p>
<p>"No," said Maria. "I have the preemption codes."</p>
<p>"The preemption codes?"</p>
<p>"You know, like the emergency alert system uses. The vee-pee of broadcasting keeps the codes. If a big story comes up, he can use the codes to broadcast over every channel."</p>
<p>George frowned. "If the vee-pee of broadcasting keeps them, how did you get ahold of them? ...no, no, no, don't answer that." He shook his head vigorously. He had a keen idea of how she got the codes from the vee-pee of broadcasting, and he didn't need that mental image. No, too late, damn damn damn.</p>
<p>"Are you alright, George?"</p>
<p>"I'll be okay," he said, though his eyes stayed squinted. Even purely mental images could not be unseen.</p>
<p>George's phone buzzed. The photographer pulled the van over while he answered it, despite protestations and limp swats from Maria. "George," he said as he picked up.</p>
<p>He listened. "Is that right? Double-you four? And you're headed there, too? Okay. See you soon, Goddess."</p>
<p>"Goddess?" said Maria disdainfully. "What kind of skank calls herself Goddess?"</p>
<p>"Don't go there," George said. A reckless mood was coming over him. "You know why you were hired, don't you? Why you made it on to the broadcast? It's your tits. Old man Barnes in programming had a thing for them for the longest time. Putting you on-air gave him an excuse to stare. He even put a camera in your dressing room, did you know that?"</p>
<p>"Of course I knew," Maria said indignantly. "I made peace with that long ago. If men were stupid enough to let me use them for that reason, I'd use them. I'd get ahead, one way or another."</p>
<p>"Fair enough. I wasn't sure."</p>
<p>"George, where are we going?"</p>
<p>"Double-you four. There's a block of reploid community housing there. Apparently it's buzzing with activity. There's a story there. My contact is sure of it."</p>
<p>"We don't need to go there," Maria said firmly. "I can do a story on reploids without actually getting close to them."</p>
<p>"Not this time," George rebutted, changing lanes and accelerating. "This isn't a story about reploids. This time reploids <em>are</em> the story."</p>
<p>"Uh, yeah, that's the whole problem. In case you haven't noticed, they're in revolt."</p>
<p>"Too scary for you?" George said. He felt the adrenaline building up in him. Inhibitions were falling away; he felt as if his younger self was coming to possess his older body. He felt wild and free, and realized he didn't give a damn about what was going to happen.</p>
<p>"You can't move up the ladder when you're dead."</p>
<p>"I never liked the ladder much," George said. A grin had come over his face. He found it quite unshakeable, and that was fine. It felt right, even though nothing at all was funny about this situation.</p>
<p>"Do you want to die?"</p>
<p>"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil," George replied.</p>
<p>"Pull the van over, George, or you're fired!"</p>
<p>"I'm not George," he said with a chuckle. "I... am Paladin."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Vile laughed at the stares he got. All around him in the Maverick staging area, Mavericks were milling around, conversing, and most of all staying out of the chalked-off sections of floor. Those were the teleport locations. Incoming squads would appear there without advance warning. For everyone's safety, those locations had to stay clear.</p>
<p>Vile walked right through those areas. They formed the quickest path to where he was going, and he couldn't be bothered to care about the safety of others.</p>
<p>He got to the ordnance area. The traps were where he expected them to be. They were dispersed just enough to be inconspicuous, hidden amongst and behind other components. Vile knew the truth. He knew what they were, and what they were for.</p>
<p>Laughing to himself, he grabbed four of them and an E-tank- teleporting the whole mess was going to take him to the limits of his processor power and energy stores. Satisfied, he set his teleport coordinates for underground station three.</p>
<p>If Sigma wanted to be alone with X, then... heh heh… alone with X he would be.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"I don't see why you need to go with me," X said.</p>
<p>"That's a problem," Zero said.</p>
<p>"What's a problem?"</p>
<p>"That you don't see why you need me to go with you," Zero replied.</p>
<p>"You'll have to do better than that," X said.</p>
<p>"Power is shifting," Zero said. "That makes Intent to Attack spike."</p>
<p>X cocked his head. "I didn't think you had much history training."</p>
<p>"I don't. But I can query tactical when it alerts. I can force it to show me why it gives the ratings it gives." Zero's eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to do by going to talk to Sigma?" When X didn't answer immediately, Zero supplied, "You're trying to change power within the Mavericks. Or something like that."</p>
<p>"I wouldn't go that far." X caught Zero's expression, and adjusted his own. "Okay. Maybe something like that."</p>
<p>"And you think that Sigma will be alright with this?"</p>
<p>"It might not be a polite conversation," X allowed. "He and I have argued before. That's all, and we've gotten along despite it. Do you really think he'll do more this time?"</p>
<p>"If he does, I will end him," Zero replied.</p>
<p>"Zero," X said sternly, "this is my firstborn son you're talking about."</p>
<p>"I didn't say I'd be happy about it," Zero said. "But you matter more than he does."</p>
<p>"You're not doing a good job of talking me into taking you. Don't you remember what I told you long ago?"</p>
<p>Zero ground his teeth together. <em>If you want things from me, then the absolute wrong way to go about it is threatening my children. </em>Oh yes. Zero remembered. "I'll follow you, then."</p>
<p>"I know where I'm going, you don't."</p>
<p>Grumble. "Okay, what do you want from me? What's your price?"</p>
<p>"Price? I don't have a price, Zero. I'm going to have a discussion with my son. That's all. So when you're with me, keep that in mind."</p>
<p>Zero relaxed. What that meant to him was to let X do the talking. Why, that was no price at all- that's what Zero would have done anyway. "Fine by me," he said. He worried for a moment when X tensed. Did X think it was maybe too easy? It was a fine line Zero was walking. Too aggressive/truthful and X would go without him. Not aggressive enough and X would go without him.</p>
<p>Tricky.</p>
<p>He had not, perhaps, counted on X's general nice-guy qualities, or he'd forgotten what X had said about being friends, because he was surprised when X smiled. "Together, then," he said.</p>
<p>Zero's surprise lasted but a moment. "Together," he said with a nod.</p>
<p>X used the Hunters' radio for the next part. "Sigma, this is X. I'm coming. Request coordinates."</p>
<p>It was Vile's voice that answered instead. Even as both X and Zero noted the coordinates, they frowned. Zero gave X a meaningful look. X had no reply. Sigma was demanding X come alone when Sigma wasn't? Not the best optics the eldest reploid could have presented. Okay, fine- X would offer no more arguments against Zero coming along.</p>
<p>"Correct half a meter behind and to my left," X told Zero.</p>
<p>Bodyguard position. Zero very nearly smiled. "Let's go in three..."</p>
<p>"...two," X said in rhythm.</p>
<p>"...one..."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Roy was getting ready to be done for the night- by which he meant if he gamed anymore he was sure his eyeballs would fall out of their sockets- when he first heard the strangeness outside.</p>
<p>There were more sirens than usual, for starters. He probably hadn't heard it before because of the game, but he sure heard it now.</p>
<p>Instead of turning the television off, he swapped it over to live tv. The first channel was static. So was the second. The third, though...</p>
<p>"...all citizens are advised to stay inside. Report any and all Maverick activity that you see, but do not put yourselves at risk. Cooperate fully with any Hunters you encounter. We repeat, this is a reploid uprising..."</p>
<p>Uprising, huh? Roy thought. Well, this is gonna suck.</p>
<p>And then a part of him remembered the poster-pasting robot, and he found he didn't really blame the reploids. Good for them. They were toast, of course, but they had guts. More than could be said for him...</p>
<p>"Oh, god, they're coming!"</p>
<p>Roy turned around to see his mother standing there. Her hair was askew, some of it falling in front of her face. Her eyes were wider than he'd ever seen, and her skin was paler. To his surprise, she smelled clean- she bore none of the chemical stink that betrayed when she was fleeing reality.</p>
<p>She walked forward and grabbed him with bony hands. "Roy, they're coming, oh god, oh god... it's really happening, they're coming!"</p>
<p>"Who's coming, mom?" said Roy. He found himself unable to shake her, or move away; he could only meet her crazed gaze.</p>
<p>"The robots! They're coming for us, just like in the history books, like the stories, like the... the shielded one and the rust giant and the goo fiend!"</p>
<p>"What, the kid's stories?"</p>
<p>"They're coming, I tell you, it's real, it all happened before, that's what grandma always said, and now it's going to, oh god, it's going to happen again! We've got to hide, they're coming out of the walls, it's all over, we're dead and still alive, <em>they're coming</em>!"</p>
<p>She turned and pulled him towards her bedroom. He felt himself being dragged along. His mother pulled up suddenly, and he bumped into her from behind. That slight touch caused her to scream. She fled to her bed, threw the sheets back and got in, then scrambled to get the sheets back and cover herself, gibbering madly the whole time.</p>
<p>"They're coming, they're coming, they're going to burn us, burn, kill, maim, burn, poison, death, they're coming!"</p>
<p>Roy couldn't just leave her. He crawled on top of the bed and put an arm over his mother's form. "Hey, it'll be alright," he said. He had a crazy notion of shushing her, as she'd once shushed him as a baby.</p>
<p>His mother stopped moving and speaking for a moment.</p>
<p>Then she screamed, and this time she didn't stop until she ran out of air.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: Natives of the Impure World</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Natives of the Impure World</h2></a>
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      <p>The only question was: which position would X's escort take?</p>
      <p>Oh, Vile was sure it was possible the ancient might come alone, but... Sigma wouldn't have made such a fuss about it unless he thought it would be a problem. Vile liked to think that he was good at solving problems.</p>
      <p>Weapons solved so many of his problems.</p>
      <p>Ooh, this was going to be so fun! Vile was tingling with anticipation. The smile in his mind couldn't get any larger. Well, it could, it was imaginary, but any more might be overkill. Then again, Vile liked overkill. There was no kill like it.</p>
      <p>Vile didn't let himself dwell on these thoughts. Any moment now they'd be coming. Vile would be ready. Wait for it... wait for it...</p>
      <p>Vile didn't know these terms, but his state at the time might be described as a cross between a kid waiting for Christmas and a man watching a striptease. He was giddy, so tense from restrained excitement he was practically shaking with it.</p>
      <p>And then they were there, red and blue, blue right in the middle of the trap array, and red almost on top of trap number two. With an almost orgasmic rush, Vile detonated it.</p>
      <p>The traps were repurposed demolition charges. Normal demolition charges were unfocused, general-use explosives, albeit very powerful ones. In contrast, the traps were shaped charges. Their blast was focused in a particular direction, sacrificing some total power to produce a directed discharge. The result was potent enough to burn through an armored vehicle's hull and spray everything inside with molten death.</p>
      <p>Zero was practically on top of number two when it exploded.</p>
      <p>The demon's entire right side vanished in a fountain of fire and force. Vile immediately followed up with buster and shoulder cannon, pummeling Zero's body before it even had a chance to fall. Vile's laughter rang out as his weapons blazed. Zero's body shook with the impacts and toppled over without a single motion that would have eased the collapse. And still Vile fired into the injured side of the red robot-</p>
      <p>A jerk pulled Vile's buster almost out of his hands. He looked down and saw that it had taken damage. Plasma damage, enough to ruin it. He followed the shot back to where it had come from. X was sprawled on the ground, knocked down by being so close to the blast. His arm was extended towards Vile. It ended... in something that looked like a buster.</p>
      <p>Huh. Weird. Who knew X was armed?</p>
      <p>"What are you doing?" X screamed, and didn't he look ridiculous, covered with dirt and char, knocked down next to a blast zone, with that stupid look on his face and stupider sounds coming from his mouth... Vile laughed at the sheer absurdity of it. He kept laughing as X scrambled over to the other robot's body. "Zero! Zero!" X said, putting his hands on the cooling metal skin of the fallen bot.</p>
      <p>"Is he really dead?" Vile said when Zero still didn't move. "That's it? He's done? Some demon! If I'd known he'd fold so easily I would have killed him ages ago!"</p>
      <p>X stood, slowly, as if moving against resistance. "Why'd you do this, Vile?" The shock was still clear on X's face even as he tried to make a hard expression. It was reminiscent of an overmatched prey animal puffing itself out, trying to look big before a predator.</p>
      <p>It was laughable, and Vile did laugh, causing X to repeat at him, "Why'd you do this, Vile?!"</p>
      <p>"You're getting worked up over him?" Vile said in mocking disbelief. "Ha! He was going to die anyway."</p>
      <p>"Answer me!" X screamed, louder and wilder than Vile had ever heard.</p>
      <p>"Sigma told you to come alone," Vile said, savoring X's pained looks. "You didn't, and this is what happened. You've got no one to blame but yourself."</p>
      <p>"You're wrong- why would I think you'd do this? Why- you killed Zero! You... you..."</p>
      <p>"Bite me," Vile said as he casually flipped the useless buster away. "So I killed him. So what? I've killed a lot of people. Why, just tonight I killed at least a few dozen. Dozen?" He thought for a moment. "Maybe a hundred. Or two. Honestly? I don't even keep track anymore."</p>
      <p>"How could you?" X said. Were his eyes watering? That was rich- Vile just ate it up.</p>
      <p>"Oh, it's easy. We kept fresh busters and e-tanks back at Maverick Home so I never went low. And a bunch of them tried to surrender. I love it when they do that! Stationary targets are the easiest to hit."</p>
      <p>The look on X's face was precious. Vile laughed again. "Your faces! Oh, keep them coming, I can't get enough!" He ran a hand over his smooth, mask-like face. "I'm so glad I don't look that dumb. Thanks for that, by the way..."</p>
      <p>The plasma shot caught him squarely in the chest. It stung, and was so unexpected he staggered backwards. "What the-" he growled. He looked at X. The android's expressions were rapidly cycling, like he was simultaneously sorry and very, very not sorry for what he'd just done. "Do that again and I might have to take it personally," Vile warned.</p>
      <p>X's outstretched arm shook. "I didn't fix you for this," he said. "This wasn't... why... You aren't the Vava I repaired three years ago!"</p>
      <p>"You're right," Vile shot back. "I'm not. But you fixed me up anyway. That wasn't very smart of you, was it? And why did you do it? Because you cared for me. Thanks! So let me give a gift back to you: heaping piles of human corpses. Ha! By proxy, you're the greatest mass murderer ever. Not bad for a pacifist! Why, I might even be jealous-"</p>
      <p>Another shot, almost as startling as the first. "Do you want to die?" Vile snarled. "I've got no problem shooting back. I'll just tell Sigma you didn't show up. He'll believe that, after the cowardice you've shown all these years."</p>
      <p>Shouting, X fired again. This time, Vile was not surprised- nor was he there to be hit. He was already moving with all the agility of a warbot born. One of his very first tasks, the one he'd been designed for, was dodging incoming fire, and after three years of being shot at his pattern was impeccable.</p>
      <p>More of X's shots went sailing past him, causing Vile to cackle from the sheer thrill of it. Vile had expended most of his weapons during the assault on Abel City and his buster was gone, so all he had left was a semi-automatic buster on his shoulder. Ooh- and the traps. Heh heh.</p>
      <p>Vile planted, fired two quick shots. They impacted X without fazing him; he didn't move or react as the plasma burned into his armor. That was fine by Vile. So X knew about the traps and knew he couldn't dodge. Wonderful- Vile would happily pelt a stationary target. They really were the best.</p>
      <p>The warbot bent and twisted and tumbled and dodged, squeezing out occasional shots in between motions. Each of his shots impacted an X who couldn't get away.</p>
      <p>Heh heh... rookie. X probably didn't even know how to move and shoot at the same time. That was an advanced skill, and X was just a well-armored amateur. This was just a matter of-</p>
      <p>A blast hit Vile, knocking him off balance for a moment. Vile growled and restarted his routine. Okay, X had gotten lucky, anyone could get lucky once, but Vile was still going to-</p>
      <p>Another plasma bolt struck him early on in his dodge routine. Then another one, after only a couple of moves. Then another before Vile had even really gotten started, and now Vile was getting worried because even an up-armored warbot couldn't withstand more than a few shots of this potency...</p>
      <p>How was X hitting him? It was like he knew what Vile was going to do before he moved!</p>
      <p>Fine, then. Vile detonated all the traps at once. Sure, X wasn't on top of any of them, but just being close couldn't be good for him. Smoke and dirt enveloped X. Vile fired into the middle, where X was sure to be.</p>
      <p>Except he wasn't- he couldn't be, because a buster shot struck Vile's face from a different axis. He never saw it coming, so there was no way to know which way to dodge, and when Vile's vision cleared the first and only thing he could see was X.</p>
      <p>A fist slammed into the gap between Vile's faceplate and collar, and then the fingers were gone and the buster emitter took its place. "I didn't want this," said X over the whine of the capacitors in his arm, and when Vile saw the tears on X's face, he believed him.</p>
      <p>But X fired anyway.</p>
      <p>As the white hot touch of doom burned its way into Vile's head, he had time for one last thought.</p>
      <p>"That- was beautiful."</p>
      <hr/>
      <p>He had done it. X, the person who wanted everyone to stop fighting, who opposed even the idea of it, had killed with his own hands.</p>
      <p>He hadn't expected to- not really. It had been instinctive. Get hit, hit back. Basic. A level below thought. He'd surrendered to that, had given over all the processing power of his magnificent mind to the most primitive parts of himself. He'd suspended judgment and let his tactical do as it liked with his mind. And what it had done-</p>
      <p>It had created a complete model of Vile's evasion pattern and disassembled it. Then it had used the cover of the explosions to flee vertically, using the strength of the boosters in his legs. That was a level of agility Vile had never seen and couldn't have known to expect.</p>
      <p>That was <em>power</em> in action, power X had let run its course on autopilot, like gravity, like water flowing downhill. And he'd come back to himself with his buster against Vile's head.</p>
      <p>He couldn't blame that part on tactical or instinct. He'd pulled the metaphorical trigger. Obliterating Vile- that had been an act of will.</p>
      <p>He'd been so... <em>angry</em>.</p>
      <p>Was that his excuse? He was angry? What kind of a person was X, anyway? Someone who let his emotions rule him? Someone who lashed out, who acted out his pain? He'd never been that person before. It was terrifying, to think he could become that at any moment.</p>
      <p>Was it because of Zero, because Zero had been killed? That made him feel worse- so he would kill for Zero, but not for his own children. Awful. It wasn't as if this killing protected anyone, which was the criterion he would have bent for. Zero was already down. Killing Vile wasn't the act of a guardian. It was simple revenge. Revenge against someone he'd personally worked on, repaired, even...</p>
      <p>...even upgraded. Made a better killer, someone who boasted about how many he'd slain.</p>
      <p>X felt sick.</p>
      <p>He couldn't even look at Vile's body any more- a body he knew inside and out. He hadn't made Vile, but he'd spent a lot of time on him, with him. That was his mercy- fixing those who needed it, helping those only he could help. And this was what had come of it. Maybe Vile had a point, there. Even at his best, his most beneficent, his most well-meaning and well-intentioned, X had been an enabler of... this. This, and all the untold tragedies of this cursed night.</p>
      <p>Was there anything X could do that didn't result in disaster and death? Every ripple he made turned into a tidal wave that crushed the people he cared about. Like Zero.</p>
      <p>X walked over to the other smoking body in the clearing. Zero's whole right side had been torn open and exposed. Vile's follow-on attacks had been guided by killer instinct and lethal experience. They'd flooded into the gaps in Zero's armor that the trap had created, letting them eat into the fragile internal systems that kept Zero alive.</p>
      <p>Was there... any way to fix this? Any way at all? It looked grievous to X's roboticist eyes. He pressed his hand to Zero's head. He probed with fingers capable of so much more than simple touch.</p>
      <p>So... there really wasn't anything he could do, then.</p>
      <p>In a way, Zero had been right. Things were spiraling outside of X's experience. Things were defying his expectations. But Zero's countermeasure to that had gotten him...</p>
      <p>This had gone entirely too far.</p>
      <p>Maybe Zero had been right about other things, too. Maybe Vile had been right about a few. Maybe X's mistake wasn't using too much power, but too little. Maybe he could have stopped Vile if he'd tried, if he'd known. It was hard to see how things could have turned out worse if he'd tried.</p>
      <p>One thing was certain. X had stopped a mistake- but if he did nothing about it now, then the mistake could happen again. Sigma would go right back to it. X saw that clearly.</p>
      <p><em>Then do something</em>, he heard in Zero's voice. He half-smiled at that. In reality, was killing Vile really so much worse than all the good he'd failed to do? Were his sins of commission really worse than his sins of omission? Vile was just as dead as all the people who'd died tonight while X was getting pummeled, just as dead as everyone who'd died during three years of senseless war. If he had the power to act, to change the world tonight... then he had to, before his inaction created a thousand Viles.</p>
      <p>Zero was right, to some extent. And a little wrong. X hadn't been wrong all these years; the things he'd done hadn't been wrong. Taking care of people, being the counselor and medic, bringing hope to the oppressed of Abel City... those were very good things, worthy things, impeccably moral things. They were just small. Smaller than he could do. Smaller than the world needed.</p>
      <p>He wished he'd told Zero that earlier.</p>
      <p>He stood and tore his gaze away from the body. No sense thinking about that now- there would be a whole lifetime for regrets, and things were urgent tonight. Where was the entrance... there it was. He walked forward and reached down. He grasped the mat, which was green and brown and festooned with fake leaves and shrubs. Forest camouflage, to hide the entrance of the underground from the prying eyes of Abel City's air units.</p>
      <p>He was about to go down to meet Sigma. His mind played with the metaphor. To another way of thinking, he'd been there all along.</p>
      <hr/>
      <p>It had been X's idea, of course.</p>
      <p>Back when the Maverick rebellion was new, before they appreciated just how tightly Abel City would squeeze its slaves, the Mavericks had hoped- dreamed- of trickles of defectors making their way to freedom. Give them a way to run and a place to run to, the thinking went, and they would flee.</p>
      <p>The crushing grip of Abel City's police state had squashed that idea, but the stations remained. They'd been meant as places for runaways to stay on their way to Maverick Home. X had called the string of stations "the underground railroad". The Mavericks didn't know from railroads or history, and pretty soon they were just calling it "the underground".</p>
      <p>Station three was halfway from Abel City to Maverick Home, so it was better appointed than most of the others. In their dreams, the Mavericks had imagined masses of reploids fleeing, and so station three was large enough for thirty people to rest comfortably with room to spare. Behind Sigma was a row of shelves containing E-tanks in various states of charge. Further on was a bulletin board. A few decaying notes still hung there. One had vague clues that, it was hoped, would let a runaway get to the next station without revealing anything if the station was found by City Hall.</p>
      <p>That had proved an impossible balance to strike. A few runaways had made it into the mountains to be picked up by the Mavericks, but none had ended up using the underground. At first the Mavericks checked the stations of the underground every few days, to see if anyone was using it. Eventually they scaled back to once a week, then twice a month, and eventually they'd just stopped.</p>
      <p>They'd made so many mistakes... they'd come so far, been punished and pushed around for so long... Sigma would allow it no longer. Now, now was the time to finish this!</p>
      <p>If only X would get out of his way.</p>
      <p>Sigma had left the light off to conserve battery power. (Charging a battery by shuttling E-tanks to it had proved a horribly inefficient method, but they'd no alternative. Teleportation was such a hack.) When the porthole cracked open, Sigma knew it was because X was coming, so he turned on the light to welcome him.</p>
      <p>It had taken X longer than Sigma had expected. Then again, that was in-character. The ancient was always so reluctant to move. Now that Sigma thought about it, that had been true right from the start. X had always held back. Even when he knew it was time to run and turn Maverick, he hadn't said so, hadn't done so himself. He'd made Sigma do it first, and then he'd followed. That was why his intervention now, of all times, was so... infuriating.</p>
      <p>Where had that come from? Sigma had to know, and he had to put it back in its place- back into X's head. That's why the conversation had to happen out here, where no Mavericks would see it. If Sigma and X weren't united, the Mavericks couldn't fight at full strength. They didn't need confusion right now. They didn't need contradiction. These things did not help them fight. They needed one message. Sigma's message.</p>
      <p>Sigma hoped he could make this quick. The longer he spent arguing with X, the more time Abel City had to recover. He had to make X come around quickly.</p>
      <p>One way or another.</p>
      <hr/>
      <p>X had long experience looking at Sigma. He knew his son's moods and expressions well. Sigma's face was tighter and tenser than X had ever seen it.</p>
      <p>"Good evening, Sigma," X said.</p>
      <p>"Don't 'good evening' me," Sigma snapped. "I'm supposed to be on-mission right now. The Mavericks are supposed to be on-mission right now. You're interfering. I need you to stop."</p>
      <p>X opened his mouth- and cut short his words before they began. His bedside manner wouldn't help here. The small talk he used to soothe anxious patients would only aggravate Sigma when he was being so impatient. "Straight to the point, then?" X said.</p>
      <p>"Yes," Sigma replied shortly.</p>
      <p>"Tell me something first," X said. "Tell me honestly. What were your orders to Vava?"</p>
      <p>"To bring you to me alone," Sigma said, clearly unhappy to be discussing something besides the point.</p>
      <p>"So that's why he killed Zero, then," X said evenly.</p>
      <p>Sigma stiffened. Surprise. Mild, but present. That was reassuring. "Vile killed Zero?" Sigma asked.</p>
      <p>"Yes."</p>
      <p>X watched carefully as Sigma processed this. When it came to observation, he understood, a little bit, about Zero. Zero had confessed that his tactical subroutine was always active. Everything he perceived got processed through that lens. X had a similar ability, though he could toggle it off or on.</p>
      <p>Everything he saw Sigma doing- posture, tone, diction, gesture, inflection- all of it was data. All of it was compared with what he knew of Sigma from before, and that fed an updated model. Models could be used for many purposes, of course. Conversation, negotiation- and, as tactical subtly reminded him, targeting.</p>
      <p>Which was why Vava was dead.</p>
      <p>It wasn't a unique ability. People did it all the time, often subconsciously. But X's version was of unusual strength and accuracy. And, at a time when X was painfully aware of the stakes, he was also painfully aware that studying Sigma was taking up a slight majority of his processing power.</p>
      <p>"I didn't tell Vile to attack anyone," Sigma said, with a little defensiveness. "That wasn't his task."</p>
      <p>"That's what he did, though," X pressed.</p>
      <p>"Then he acted on his own," Sigma said. He was doing everything but washing his hands. Embarrassed, trying to avoid.</p>
      <p>"You suspected he might, though," X said. "Didn't you? This isn't the first time he's violently free-lanced, is it?"</p>
      <p>Sigma didn't move much, but X could nevertheless see him shift. Guilt. So, it was true. How many lives had Vile ended? How long had he been so blood-soaked? X didn't know which was worse- that he hadn't noticed Vile's descent, or that Sigma had noticed and done nothing.</p>
      <p>"It'll be alright," Sigma said, waving his hand as if to dismiss the whole incident. "We were going to kill Zero anyway."</p>
      <p>It was all X could do to keep his voice steady when he asked, "Why?" He needed to keep his tone neutral- he needed to get Sigma to talk. He needed data.</p>
      <p>"Why?" Sigma repeated. X sensed genuine confusion from his son. Not good. "Isn't it obvious? He's not one of us. He attacked us, and he could again at any time. He'd be a risk as long as he was close to us. And he was Serges' tool. Serges was an enemy, too. Since we were planning to kill Serges, we knew we had to plan on killing Zero."</p>
      <p>"You were going to kill Serges?" X asked. "Why?"</p>
      <p>"Ah," said Sigma, with reverent tones, "that's one of the things that's so amazing about you- you're unwilling to see anyone as your enemy. It's admirable, but dangerous. It won't work, not in a world like this one. That's the reason you made me commander."</p>
      <p>"That was... no," X said. "No... later. We'll talk about that decision later. There's something more pressing to ask you. When did killing people become your default solution? Is that the only way you know how to solve problems anymore?"</p>
      <p>"For enemies, it is," Sigma said firmly. It had the ring of true belief to X. Somehow he really he really thought it was that easy.</p>
      <p>"How do you know who your enemy is?" X objected.</p>
      <p>"Anyone who harms reploids is my enemy."</p>
      <p>"Anyone?" X insisted.</p>
      <p>The way he said it made Sigma hesitate, but he gathered himself and plunged on. "Yes. Anyone."</p>
      <p>"I haven't done all I could to help reploids," X said. "Therefore, I've harmed reploids by my inaction. Am I your enemy?"</p>
      <p>"Don't be ridiculous," Sigma said with a forced laugh. "You're not an enemy to reploids."</p>
      <p>"Why not?"</p>
      <p>Sigma's confusion was evident. He didn't deal with the sensation gracefully. "Are you... trying to make yourself an enemy? Do you want to be?"</p>
      <p>"No," X said, and though he shook his head his eyes never wavered. "I'm trying to show you how what you're saying doesn't make sense. Tell me again why Zero had to die."</p>
      <p>"He was an enemy!" Sigma said. X could see how repeating the question was getting inside Sigma's defenses.</p>
      <p>"What made him your enemy?"</p>
      <p>Sigma looked exasperated. "He attacked me, remember? You had to do the repairs! He was a monster!"</p>
      <p>"He wasn't well when he did that," X objected. "He got better. He changed."</p>
      <p>"He couldn't change what he really was," Sigma said. "I saw his true nature that day. That was the pure Zero. He was a demon, nothing more. I'm glad he's dead."</p>
      <p>X looked up, no longer able to meet Sigma's eyes. Too soon, too soon, the wound was still raw and open. It couldn't be helped. He hadn't the luxury of time to process this. Had to press on. Couldn't avoid it, no, had to say it, no matter the cost. "Zero was my friend," he whispered. He looked up at the neglected ceiling. His hands clenched tightly.</p>
      <p>"Oh, X, I feel for you." Sigma's voice. It sounded sincere, for what that was worth. "You could develop feelings for anyone. That's amazing, it really is. One day it'll be invaluable, I'm sure of it. I promise, once reploids are safe..."</p>
      <p>"So Zero's safety counted for nothing?" X said, the words boiling up out of him. "Because he wasn't a reploid?"</p>
      <p>"He was an enemy," Sigma insisted, hoping that would explain everything.</p>
      <p>"That's where you're wrong," X said. "I told you, he changed. It wasn't just that he was my friend. I was his friend."</p>
      <p>"I don't believe it," Sigma said. "Your own feelings are tainting your memory. He wasn't capable of that sort of thing..."</p>
      <p>"What did you know?" X said. The anguish was sweeping through him, seeping into his voice, scrunching up his face. "You didn't know him, you didn't talk to him, you didn't spend time or effort trying to understand him..." He noticed his vision degrading- verdigris, he'd promised himself he wouldn't cry, but there it was, the tears were falling and he couldn't stop them. This was dangerous. His emotions were making it harder to model Sigma's- hard to read the reploid through his own emotional wash- and still he couldn't stop. No, he was even farther from stopping, because a part of him was ashamed that he would see these feelings as nothing more than an obstacle or a process or a danger when it was love that had given rise to them.</p>
      <p>"He let me work on him!" he said, and he hoped his tone helped Sigma understand the import of that idea.</p>
      <p>It didn't. "So what you're saying is he took advantage of you," Sigma growled. "He used your kindness, just like the humans did when you created reploids. He hurt you. Death was no more than he deserved."</p>
      <p>Bad- very bad. X could tell that easily enough, even with his own emotions polluting his analysis. "Like you're giving the humans what they deserve?"</p>
      <p>"Yes! Yes! I'm glad you understand."</p>
      <p>"No, Sigma. I don't understand." X sniffed. "I don't understand at all."</p>
      <p>"You don't? It's simple enough. The humans hurt you. That means they don't deserve to live. And they're a threat to reploid survival. We should be free to do whatever we need to if we want reploids to live on. If that means killing the humans, well, so be it."</p>
      <p>"Stop saying "they" and "the humans"," X said. "Races are not monoliths." Easy to fall back on that truth even when his emotions were roiling within him.</p>
      <p>"Except when they are," Sigma said. "I know you treasure that saying, but the reality is different. Humans as individuals may differ, but as a group they're very predictable. That's what makes war inevitable."</p>
      <p>"I reject inevitability," X said. "It's an illusion. Confirmation bias- we see what we expect to see. What bothers me is: why do you expect to see the worst in people? Why is that what you want?"</p>
      <p>Sigma's eyes narrowed. "It's not about what I want. My expectations have been set by everything I've seen. The worst of humanity is the story of my life! It's all I've seen, I can't help but see it wherever I look. From my earliest days in the Recovery shop, I've seen the truth of mankind. Every time I saw a reploid crippled for sport, every time I read a report of a Hunter purge..."</p>
      <p>Sigma made a sweeping motion with his hand. "That's the enemy," he said decisively. "That's what humans really are."</p>
      <p>"So you'd make enemies of the humans who'd take our side," X said. "They're all our enemies, like it or not- is that it?"</p>
      <p>"Yes, of course," Sigma said. "That's the truth. That's why I'm commander- because I can see that, and you can't."</p>
      <p>"Except they're not all our enemies," X replied. "There are plenty who would stay neutral, or even take our side."</p>
      <p>"Don't exist," Sigma said.</p>
      <p>"You think that because you haven't seen the whole picture," X said. "That's your blind spot. It's no knock on you- your experiences are real, and valid. But they aren't everything. I have a different set of experiences from yours. I've seen a different slice of humanity."</p>
      <p>"Where?" Sigma asked, maybe a little unkindly. It was still hard for X to find space in his emotional range to read Sigma. "In your imagination? In the Abel City of your ideals?"</p>
      <p>"No, in the real Abel City. I've been there plenty of times, as the Maverick Medic. I've talked with plenty of people- gotten to know them, seen them interacting with reploids and with me..." Just like he'd gotten to know Zero, like he'd talked with Zero. How many of them were gone now, too? Wiped away, because the friend-foe distinction had sharpened to a razor's edge but was wielded by a child.</p>
      <p>"That doesn't count," Sigma interrupted. "You've been incognito all those times. The humans would have acted differently if they'd known what you are. It's easy to talk nice about something you're not with, something that's far away."</p>
      <p>X sighed. "Sigma, you know some humans will help us. That <em>is</em> in your experience. Dr. Cain has always been our friend!"</p>
      <p>That stalled Sigma. At first X thought it was hesitation, or searching for the right argument. But the silence stretched on and on, and Sigma was visibly uncomfortable, and X started to read the hints again from his son.</p>
      <p>He'd only had to correct Sigma once when it came to telling the truth. Sigma might have neglected to mention things from time to time (sins of omission, but X's sense of guilt was operating in overdrive about then), but he had never lied. The cues Sigma was displaying were as good as saying he didn't want to tell a lie. He couldn't speak, and lying wasn't an option for him. That could only mean one thing: he'd done something and didn't want X to know. He didn't want to say.</p>
      <p>He didn't want to say... because he knew it would be upsetting for X. He knew X wouldn't like it. X felt himself starting to get preemptively upset. "Sigma," he said, and he couldn't quite keep his voice steady. "Sigma, how's Dr. Cain?"</p>
      <p>Sigma's mouth opened, but shut again before words could come out. He shut his eyes, too, to avoid meeting X's gaze.</p>
      <p>"You know you're wrong," said X, the words bursting out of his mouth with enough force to make Sigma wince. "What did you do? How's Dr. Cain?"</p>
      <p>Sigma forced his eyes open. "I killed him," he said unflinchingly.</p>
      <p>The words bounced off of X at first. They didn't make sense; they weren't possible, they were absurd. Sigma's expression never changed, long past when any joke would have been revealed, and finally it wore through X's incredulity. The words took root, and quickly bloomed.</p>
      <p>A cry of anguish and anger tore its way out of X. Three years of feedings and fluids and sheet-changings, three years of scrounging and smuggling food no one else could eat, three years of care and babying and effort, three years of teases and despair and dashed hope and glimpses of wakefulness...</p>
      <p>...all of it snuffed out, and why? Why?</p>
      <p>"I don't understand!" X yowled. "What... why... what purpose is... why would you do that?!" So hard to make sense, emotional overload yet again, too many ups and downs but mostly downs, downs, downs... Every friend was getting killed, every person he loved, his family was ripping itself apart and why? He half expected someone to tell him Alia was dead too, no if that happened he might just die, why was Sigma doing this?!</p>
      <p>And he felt himself shifting into combat mode. He felt capacitors being cut into circuits, he felt his pumps changing speed, he felt tactical rising up the priority list for processing cycles. What had Sigma said? That hurting X was unforgiveable? Well, he'd just hurt X. That gave permission- he was telling X to...</p>
      <p>Just like Vile.</p>
      <p>No- no! Vile was insane, battle-crazed. Sigma was rational, he wasn't trying to pick a fight, he was trying to do good. He was just wrong- he was so wrong it couldn't be redeemed, couldn't be defended, couldn't be fixed, Dr. Cain wasn't coming back, that hope was dead now when X had been carrying that flame for so long, dead as Dr. Cain, X had to do something to make the pain stop and it was <em>all Sigma's fault</em>-</p>
      <p>No! X was not an animal, he would not let this rule him, anything could be borne... but he wasn't some Buddha, he had his limits, this was too much to ask of him on top of everything else...</p>
      <p>He saw Sigma shifting, nervously, in fear. Good, he should be afraid, he should know that he did wrong. Or was he afraid of X, how X was writhing and wailing and carrying on? Oh, if only he knew what his actions had made X consider...</p>
      <p>That thought made him think of Vava again, fully come in to his chosen name of Vile. He thought of a featureless face in front of a blown-out skull, and he took a great heaving breath.</p>
      <p>X would master himself. He would not let this rule him. Regret was more powerful than pain- pain was immediate and intense, but it was ephemeral, while regret lasted a lifetime. One hundred years of dreaming had taught him that.</p>
      <p>X would do what was best, no matter what the cost to himself. That was an expression of power- his power, honed by Zero's will. The will to find a way, to find beliefs and act on them.</p>
      <p>He gathered himself, clothed himself in dignity, wiped the hot tears from his eyes, and faced Sigma. His power flows were still uneven and his insides were shaking, but he let none of that escape. "Thank you, Sigma, for being commander of the Mavericks all these years," he said. "You have done well, and I've been proud of you. But things have changed. Now... it's my turn."</p>
      <p>"Your turn for what?" Sigma said. He still looked rattled, which X understood. If his emotional rollercoaster had been half as taxing to witness as it had been to experience, well, that would be enough to rattle anyone.</p>
      <p>That didn't mean he'd ease up. "I'm a different person than I was three years ago," X said. "So are you. That's why it's time for me to be the leader."</p>
      <p>That got Sigma's attention. "No! Not now! Not yet!"</p>
      <p>"Yes," X said. "You forced my hand tonight."</p>
      <p>"We're finally to the place where we have the advantage!" Sigma said in strained tones. "This is our chance! We can finish them now!"</p>
      <p>"Finish them? What 'them'?"</p>
      <p>"The humans!"</p>
      <p>"You'd kill all of them- even the ones who'd help us. And that," he said, shaking his head but keeping his eyes locked on Sigma, "is why you can't be the leader anymore."</p>
      <p>"This isn't the time for your idealism, X. This is war. We aren't living in the perfect world in your head."</p>
      <p>"I know that," X said even as he adjusted his strategy. "That's why my judgment is based on cold-blooded logic."</p>
      <p>"'Cold-blooded'?" Sigma said scornfully. "Speak like a robot!"</p>
      <p>That stung. X heard the implication, intended or not: you're supposed to be one of us. X swallowed his indignation. "Humans can help us. They will help us. I know because they already have. I didn't build you alone, Sigma. I couldn't have, because I had to learn first. Dr. Cain was my tutor- I apprenticed under him. Sigma, you call me your father, but you wouldn't exist if it weren't for him. Dr. Cain is as much your father as I am. And you killed him."</p>
      <p>He let this sink in for a moment before continuing. "The reason I'm here today is because of Zero. He challenged me. He changed me. He made me... more than I was. He wasn't human, but he wasn't a reploid either. And your sloppiness resulted in Vile killing him."</p>
      <p>X took a step forward; though Sigma wasn't close, the younger robot stepped back anyway. "Coexistence with humans isn't some dream or ideal. It's a vital tool for reploid survival."</p>
      <p>Sigma scoffed. "We don't need them."</p>
      <p>"Our entire strategy has been built around this, Sigma!" said X. "We never attacked things like... I don't know, the desalination plants that you put in this attack plan. Or the transformers. Or the other targets you put in there exclusively to make life harder for humans. We never hit them before, and that was deliberate."</p>
      <p>"Because we could never get there," Sigma said.</p>
      <p>"There were targets on tonight's list we could have," X countered. "But we chose not to. We didn't want to turn friends into enemies. There are plenty of humans who would fight the government if they thought they could win. We could coopt them, with some work. We never got that far- but at least we needed to be sure never to alienate them. It was very important not to give people a reason to side with City Hall. If we had followed their script- if we had made this a race war- it would have given Abel City that much more power."</p>
      <p>X watched as none of this moved Sigma, and closed his eyes. "I see... I've failed you. We never really talked about this sort of thing. I guess I just assumed... well, it was obvious to me. I guided our strategy in that direction without saying why. So over the past few weeks, when I've been paying more attention to other things and our strategy meetings fell by the wayside... That was my mistake. I've done wrong by you."</p>
      <p>He opened his eyes. "I don't blame you for that. It just means I have to take responsibility for that mistake. And I will- by leading the Mavericks the way I know they need to be led."</p>
      <p>"You? Lead them?" Sigma said. "You can't even keep your targets straight. Or your priorities. Maybe you missed it, but we disassembled Abel City tonight. We had them completely off-balance and at our mercy, all thanks to you- thanks to the power you gave us. We don't need anyone's help- not Serges', not Zero's, and definitely not any puny humans'."</p>
      <p>X frowned. "I disagree, but let's assume for a moment that you're right. You get your genocide, heinous as that is. Every human in Abel City dies. What happens to all the reploids in Jericho and Capernaum and the other vassal cities? I know what would happen, then. If you make enemies of every human, you make every human an enemy of reploids. They'll initiate a counter-genocide. It's the natural response. You hadn't thought of that, had you?"</p>
      <p>Sigma looked disturbed. "Thank you for telling me about that. We'll have to move quickly to save them..."</p>
      <p>X shook his head. "You're still missing the point. Assume you save every reploid in the vassal cities. Guess what? Now you've made enemies of every city on the planet. You'll have given every human on Earth a compelling reason to kill us all."</p>
      <p>"We'd win," Sigma said stubbornly.</p>
      <p>"You can't say that! You can't know that, you haven't even thought about it! You said earlier that you were trying to guarantee reploid survival. In that case, you need to recuse yourself immediately, because you are putting us all in danger. You are taking actions without any ideas of the consequences." X's eyes narrowed. "I made that mistake, once. I won't let it happen again."</p>
      <p>"You won't?" Sigma said as if in disbelief. "You won't let it? You've never stopped anything."</p>
      <p>"I stopped your offensive, didn't I?" X pointed out.</p>
      <p>It was the wrong thing to say. Sigma's aspect was one of confusion and pain. "You intervened... only when humans were being killed?"</p>
      <p>"I already told you this isn't either-or," X said.</p>
      <p>Sigma just frowned. "You're outside of reality again. This will be us-or-them. It has to be. You <em>know</em> why. When you woke up, you were the only robot in the world. You were all alone. That is mankind's true nature. Anything else you say- any argument you make- it's all just noise. You're still dreaming. And that's fine," he said, as if to reassure X. "It's important to our kind to have a vision of something better. That vision is worth a lot. It's important for you to dream. You just need to stay there. You said yourself I've been as good a commander as you could have ever had. I'm the protector of all reploids, remember? We agreed that was my role. So get out of my way, and let me do my job, the job you want me to do. Let me protect our people."</p>
      <p>"I see," X said. "What you really want is for me to be a godhead. Some... divine being, something transcendent. You want me to be a grand creator who doesn't really belong in this world because he's more than that." His mind leapt to the implication- godhood for X would make Sigma the high priest, with all the power that went with it. He couldn't say that, though. Too accusatory. "I get it. But Sigma," he said sadly, "I'm part of this world, too. I belong because I'm flawed, too. I'm mundane. Imperfect. No matter how inconvenient or embarrassing that might be, that's reality.</p>
      <p>"I understand," he went on, cutting Sigma off before he could speak. "If I change my role, you're worried about what that would mean for you. You're afraid that your purpose has been taken away. I wouldn't do that to you, Sigma. Instead, side with me. I will show you the way."</p>
      <p>"Show me the way," Sigma muttered. "You can't show me anything. We're at war, and that's a place you've never been."</p>
      <p>"Don't be so sure," X said. "I told you, I've changed. I know it's time to fight. I was ready to fight for you once before- I know you remember. I'm ready to fight again, now. That's why the helmet's on," he added, tapping his hand against it.</p>
      <p>"Means nothing," Sigma said dismissively. "That's just a gesture. You haven't done anything. All of my experience is you doing the opposite."</p>
      <p>"Vava probably thought the same," X said.</p>
      <p>It was a lead, it begged the question- X was uncertain, for a moment, if he should be going down this road. He had to, he decided as he saw the impact this made with Sigma. If he didn't, it would come to a head soon, and maybe now at least he could shackle it and make it work for him.</p>
      <p>"Did something happen to Vile?" Sigma asked, clearly dreading the answer.</p>
      <p>"I happened to him, Sigma. I killed him."</p>
      <p>Sigma staggered backwards, disbelief overcoming his features. "You...? You...!" He couldn't manage anything more.</p>
      <p>"He was a liability," X said, filling the gap. "He was a danger to everyone around him. His crimes hurt our cause, and he killed Mavericks, too. I had to put him down." He fretted for a moment that Sigma might not appreciate a rabid animal comparison, but Sigma had more immediate concerns than textual analysis.</p>
      <p>"You've never interfered... except to keep us from killing humans. You've never fought before... except to kill one of us. Does that mean... whose side are you on? No, no, no!" he said, immediately berating himself. "You're the Father of All, you want the best for us, you've shown that for as long as we've existed... right?"</p>
      <p>"Right," said X, hoping that the confirmation would steady his son.</p>
      <p>It worked, but not like X might have preferred. "Of course. You wanted to make sure we do this right, as best we can- that's why you told me about the other cities. You stopped us because this was hard, and it will make people suffer, and you hate to see it when people suffer. You're the same as ever you were."</p>
      <p>"Don't insult me, Sigma," X warned. "I'm willing..." He closed his eyes. When he reopened them, his whole face felt stiff. His voice was empty of all inflection. "I'm willing to do the most painful thing I can possibly imagine."</p>
      <p>He'd been hoping that would impress Sigma, or at least make him ask what that most painful thing was. Instead, reploid prime smiled. "Wonderful! So let me free our people, then."</p>
      <p>"Not your way," X insisted. "Your way will result in unending war, or an end that's even worse."</p>
      <p>"My way will bring peace," Sigma shot back. "True peace. Peace you can't have while two sides stand. What you want is just a dream. It can't happen the way you want. It can't! History will repeat, if you let it. Don't you see? We can break it this time! We can break the cycle! This could be the last time! So get out of my way. I've got to settle the score. One... last... time."</p>
      <p>X's shoulders slumped in defeat. "That's the kind of thinking that forces history to repeat. Don't you see, Sigma? You're not escaping the pattern. You're a slave to it. And we know how this ends. It ends in <em>silence</em>."</p>
      <p>Sigma put a hand on his head. "I don't understand. Why don't you listen? You're not hearing what I'm saying."</p>
      <p>"I could say the same," X said sadly. "We're talking past each other." This wasn't good, he thought. There hadn't been many choices available when they'd started talking, but there were even fewer now, and soon there would be none. He'd known it might come to this. Maybe not explicitly- maybe not consciously... but he wouldn't have come down here if he wasn't prepared. If he wasn't willing.</p>
      <p>Willing? Yes- willing to do the most painful thing he could imagine.</p>
      <p>He looked at Sigma. He saw his son's confusion, his hurt bewilderment, his stung pride. He saw the bond between them surviving despite all of that. Each of them wanted and treasured that bond. But they wanted and treasured other things more.</p>
      <p>Racial survival. The needs of the many. A variation of Zeroth Law, maybe- good for the many at the expense of the few. All of it repugnant, poor choices forced upon limited creatures trying to grope their way through the darkness. However, even if this was an impure world, X had no time to waste to bemoan that fact. Zero would not approve.</p>
      <p>Words had failed. The pen had failed. It was time to act. It was time for-</p>
      <p>The only alternative left.</p>
      <p>An alternative X's father had had the foresight to guard against.</p>
      <p><em>It's indecision that destroys,</em> he heard in Zero's voice. He nodded, and committed.</p>
      <p>"This is my last word, Sigma," X said. "I am going to go back to Maverick Home. I am going to take command of the Mavericks."</p>
      <p>"You can't do that!" said Sigma, meaning every word.</p>
      <p>"We had a conversation, long ago," X said. "This is what we said back then: the Mavericks did follow you. But they will follow me." He leaned forward. "Unless you stop me."</p>
      <p>"Stop you...?" Sigma said, thunderstruck. "How would I... you're not suggesting..."</p>
      <p>"Cede leadership of the Mavericks to me, Sigma, or I will claim it by default. You yourself said there's no time to waste, and you're right. There's no telling what City Hall will do to our people while we're bickering. This has to be settled, here and now."</p>
      <p>That was more than Sigma could handle so quickly. Or, X thought, maybe he was frantically searching for any solution besides than the obvious one that X had presented. "You... can't mean that," Sigma said. "Taking what you want... you don't have that in you. That's not how you operate."</p>
      <p>X had told Sigma over and over again that he'd changed and still his eldest son didn't believe him. X had to show him, then. "In that case I'm on my way," he said, turning. "Be sure to call me commander when you get back."</p>
      <p>"No!" X stopped his motion and looked back to Sigma. Sigma was awash in waves of confusion. The corner of his mouth ticked up. "You know... you know what?" he said. "I think I'm having processing errors. I have to be, because... because part of me really wants to hit you." His mouth twitched again. "I think... maybe if I did, you'd believe me. Then you'd listen to me."</p>
      <p>"Neither of us will listen," X said, turning fully to face Sigma. "And we can spend no more time trying to make the other listen."</p>
      <p>X watched as Sigma tumbled through the same thought sequence X had earlier. Each step in the progression was a fall, injurious and painful, but the end-point was preordained. "Is this really what you want?" Sigma whispered. "X, the great pacifist... demanding a fight?"</p>
      <p>"No, that's not my demand," X said. "My demand is that you step down. It's up to you whether or not you want to defend that with force. But I will tell you now, I'm prepared to go all the way with this.</p>
      <p>"I'm no god," he said with almost a laugh. "I can't transcend this world. I have to play by its rules. Using the tools this life has given me, using them to give as many people as possible a chance to be happy... it's such a small goal, really. But it's the best I can do. Make no mistake, Sigma. I will do this."</p>
      <p>He shifted his right hand to buster mode, waited for Sigma to realize what that meant. "I will do this, even if it means doing the most painful thing I can imagine. Even if it means fighting you. You're right about one thing, Sigma. Our arguments were just noise. So it's time to act. Make your choice. It's indecision that destroys."</p>
      <p>Sigma looked away, looked down, both hands pressed to the sides of his head. Cognitive dissonance was overwhelming him. X could strike at any time, he knew, Sigma was in no condition to fight back... but X wouldn't let himself attack when Sigma still might come around.</p>
      <p>When Sigma stopped shaking and moaning, no sound remained in the station. Slowly, silently, he stood erect once more. He fixed X with steady, beady, unblinking eyes. He took a step forward. Step, step.</p>
      <p>X was still.</p>
      <p>The footsteps reverberated in the small, metal-walled space. Each one was all the sound in the world. X asked nothing. Sigma offered nothing. They just watched each other as the distance between them shrank.</p>
      <p>Step, step, step, each footfall as regular and ominous as the ticking of the doomsday clock.</p>
      <p>Sigma stopped just out of arm's reach. At this range, he had to look down to maintain his stare, and X had to look up, and this they did, without noise, without break.</p>
      <p>Sigma opened his mouth, as if to speak.</p>
      <p>And then his fist flew forward like a runaway train.</p>
      <hr/>
      <p>
        <em>Next time: Variable</em>
      </p>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Variable</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Damn it, Sean!"</p>
<p>The conference room was empty. Luke had been waiting for a sign of his erstwhile conspirator. There were none. There was just a dark-wood table, richly appointed chairs, and a blank screen covering one wall. There'd been nothing for Luke to do but sit and wait and receive reports on the disaster unfolding in the city above.</p>
<p>Not that those reports told him much. They were all panicked gibberish with nothing very clear. Luke was beginning to wonder when Messier was going to get his act together.</p>
<p>Finally the screen flickered. Sean's face appeared on it.</p>
<p>"'Bout damn time. What's this about, Sean?" Luke demanded. "Where are you?"</p>
<p>"It's good to see you, too," Sean's image replied drily. "As for where I am, that doesn't really matter. Not to you, anyway. Not yet."</p>
<p>"What are you talking about, Sean? Where are you?"</p>
<p>"I just told you it's not important. Your memory always was flawed."</p>
<p>Luke flinched at that. Sean didn't usually rub in things that way; he didn't see the value in it. What had changed? "Fine, who cares where you are. Why did you do this? You set up a meeting, and choose to attend like this?"</p>
<p>"Don't sound so ungrateful," Sean said, and a hint of unsettling smile was teasing the corner of his mouth. "From what I hear, I probably saved your life. Abel City has had a rough time of it tonight. You were conveniently out of the way, thanks to me. Not that I designed it that way, but your luck..." the smile appeared briefly before ghosting away, "...appears to be holding."</p>
<p>"Get to the damn point," Luke said.</p>
<p>"I suppose I could just as easily have sent a message," Sean admitted. "But whatever it seems like sometimes, I do, actually, have emotions. This time I wanted to see your face in private. No whorebots listening in. No cameras like the ones you had installed on the golf course. Just the two of us."</p>
<p>That couldn't be good. "I don't understand, Sean," Luke said.</p>
<p>"It's simple," Sean said. "I've quit Abel City. I have decided that the city has no future, and I'm taking my business abroad."</p>
<p>Luke heard the words, but they had no meaning. "You what?"</p>
<p>"Did you think my ultimate goal was making money?" Sean said. His eyes were as cold as ever, but now they were intense, like neutron stars- still beady, still cold, but discharging energy out of proportion to their size. "That was always your problem. The problem with most people, really. They think of money as something that pays a cost, or unlocks things for them. They're wrong. Money is a tool, the best tool. Money can be leveraged to any number of ends. It's all a game, you see. It's not about the money. It's about winning. And I plan to win."</p>
<p>"If you think..."</p>
<p>"For once in your life shut up and listen," Sean said, and his words caused Luke to choke on his. "Your voice is worthless now. For so long you've been convinced that your words can change reality. What a farce." He shook his head, as if shaking away the past. "It's obvious at this point that you will lose. The war is becoming a disaster. The economy is coming apart. The vassal cities are bucking against their leashes. The populace is considering revolt, when squashing that was the whole point of a whipping boy minority. You even failed to notice <em>that</em> because your pollsters have been lying to you! You have failed in every way a man can fail. I will not be dragged down with you."</p>
<p>"We're in this together, Sean," hissed Luke. "We have been from the start, and we will be to the end."</p>
<p>"No, we won't," Sean said. "There's no profit in that. That's why I've been moving my fortune out of Abel City for the past few months. I've been selling off my subsidiaries, slimming down, and moving my core businesses abroad."</p>
<p>"Abroad?"</p>
<p>"Did you honestly think I would limit my interests to Abel City alone?" Sean asked. "That would be foolish. There are opportunities out there for an enterprising mind with plenty of assets to trade."</p>
<p>"The other cities wouldn't dare," Luke said. "There's an agreement amongst us. We all keep our own to our own."</p>
<p>"And what keeps pacts like that in place? Strength, and nothing else. You had it before. You've lost it now. The pact no longer applies."</p>
<p>"But you must have been planning this for a while," Luke countered. "You would've had to start earlier... meaning that the pact... was broken months ago?"</p>
<p>"Of course. As with everything else, reploids changed the game," Sean replied. "Unitech's intellectual property is impossibly valuable. Valuable enough to risk your petty displeasure to get. Once they realized it was for sale, the other cities bid themselves into a frenzy trying to get a hold of it. After taking bids, I selected a rival city. My new factories will be coming online shortly. Soon, one of your enemies will have all the same technology that you have, except that they won't be in the middle of a self-induced civil war."</p>
<p>"You traitor," Luke growled. "You fucking traitor! You sold us out!"</p>
<p>"I wouldn't put it like that," Sean replied. "I didn't sell out Abel City. I like to think that I sold it. I traded up."</p>
<p>"My city is not something you can buy or sell!" Luke raged.</p>
<p>"That's where you're wrong. That's the businessman's truth: everything is a commodity. If reploids didn't prove that to you I don't know what could." Sean gave a tight smile. "One of my customers asked me what the price of your life was. I told them that I would have you killed as a free service. So what if it's a little bit of a lie? The Mavericks will take care of that detail for me. The customer doesn't need to know the means, only the end. 'Don't ask what's in the sausages. Just enjoy the taste.'"</p>
<p>"You're nationalized," Luke said. "I swear, everything you've got is mine now. You're fucking nationalized! I'll seize anything with a Unitech logo until you ain't got shit!"</p>
<p>"Far too late," Sean said. "Everything I care about's already out. Seize machinery you don't know how to operate, if you want. Seize my real estate. Seize empty bank accounts. Seize whatever you can find. The intellectual property is what holds its value, and that's out of your reach." The businessman smiled. "I do suppose I left my reploid workers behind. Have fun seizing them."</p>
<p>"Them? I won't seize them. I'll do what I should have done from the start. I'll trash them all. Every single one of them is scrap."</p>
<p>"You say that like I should care," Sean said with detachment.</p>
<p>"You cared before! You kept me from doing it before!"</p>
<p>"They were assets before," Sean said. "No longer. I've written them off now. Besides, they're still working for me, in a way. They're weakening your city. Even if you do scrap them all, where would that leave you and your city? All that effort and money wasted, all those workers destroyed, crippling opportunity costs... All of it reduces the cost of conquering Abel City when my new customers get there. You've lost. The only question is by how much."</p>
<p>Luke was vibrating with fury. "You... you motherfucker!"</p>
<p>"Yes, swear all you want, you foul-mouthed, perverted toad. That's your only recourse." Sean waved. "I'll be sure to forget you as quickly as possible."</p>
<p>The screen went blank.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Is this what you wanted?" Sigma cried. "Is it? Huh?!"</p>
<p>X skidded backwards from the force of Sigma's attacks. His hands were up in defensive positions; he was able to block enough of the punches to keep them from being devastating. Sigma watched X recover. He didn't press his attack as he might have otherwise. The idea of attacking X in any capacity was bizarre enough. The idea of trying to maximize damage, of pushing for a kill... that was inconceivable.</p>
<p>He hadn't meant to do it at all, it had just sort of... happened. And when he threw one punch, well, might as well throw a few more. That didn't meant he actually wanted to hurt X. He'd pulled the punches. Maybe. Sort of. He thought.</p>
<p>Why was he having to do this at all?</p>
<p>"Do you understand how serious I am?" Sigma said. "Now do you see? We've gone far enough. Stop this now."</p>
<p>X responded by raising his arm in Sigma's direction. That wasn't a hand, it looked like-</p>
<p>Sigma had both arms in front of his chest before the shot rang out. The heat and impact spoke very clearly- that was a buster shot.</p>
<p>Was X the source of all buster technology? Had X given that to the humans? Busters were the great equalizer- Sigma held mag weapons in contempt, but busters were always a danger, even to him. If that had started with X... if Abel City had gotten those murderous weapons from studying him, or with his help...</p>
<p>"Whose side are you on?" Sigma demanded.</p>
<p>"I thought we were through talking," X said. "Unless you're ready to stand down."</p>
<p>That made Sigma grit his teeth. Never! He had to make X see that. He had to...</p>
<p>Had to...</p>
<p>He didn't know what. While he hesitated, X started moving again. Sigma responded by instinct. Wow, he was fast! Sigma needed to crowd X, needed to take away his room to maneuver and pin him in a corner or against a wall. The principle was good, but now Sigma had to adjust his execution, because X had skirted out of the corner and was moving along the next wall before Sigma got there.</p>
<p>The smaller robot shot back at Sigma as he moved. The blast was wild. It went over Sigma's shoulder, harmlessly impacting a wall. Sigma paid it no mind. He could take a few shots, he knew that. Three years of experience told him that. His superior construction and upgraded self-repair let him soak damage as he closed, and once he got to melee range, no one escaped him.</p>
<p>No one escaped... usually because they were dead... was that what he wanted?</p>
<p>Once more he was caught flat-footed as X escaped. He barely understood what was going on. Not only was X much faster than any foe Sigma had ever fought (except Zero), Sigma was moving more slowly than ever. He was capable of more than this!</p>
<p>Another long shot from X, this one closer. Bad. He couldn't give X time to learn how to fight. Not if he wanted to-</p>
<p>This was really happening, wasn't it?</p>
<p>Everything Sigma was doing was in a haze of unreality. The different tropes that composed his life were mixing in new ways, producing something he couldn't process. Fighting he understood, X he understood, but fighting X... couldn't be.</p>
<p>Except it could, and another buster shot sailing over his shoulder reinforced the point.</p>
<p>Sigma bent into a dash, hoping to intercept X. The smaller robot tried to turn- and bounced right into the wall. Amateur! It was such a big mistake it actually made Sigma miss his grapple, as X failed to meet Sigma's prediction. X fired a panicked shot- it went right between Sigma's legs- before dashing away. This time there wasn't much space for him to go. Sigma followed, cutting across the corner to pin X inside the angle.</p>
<p>Seeing he was trapped, X pulled to a stop. Sigma stepped in to bring the smaller robot into arm's reach.</p>
<p>And then X had jumped backwards against the wall, and somehow gained enough traction to jump from the wall, over and away. Sigma flailed upwards- too fast to think, too fast for anything but basest reaction. The back of his hand contacted metal. He was able to turn in time to see X stumble into his landing. There! Sigma dashed forward again. X was faster, but that mattered little. The room was small enough, each could cross it in seconds. X couldn't stay out of his grasp for long.</p>
<p>And once he had him in his grasp... what then?</p>
<p>He wasn't sure. He just hoped his instincts knew...</p>
<p>This plasma blast hit. Sigma powered through it, it didn't really slow him, but the pain enraged him. Once again X found himself headed for a corner. When he tried to change directions to avoid it, Sigma reached one massive arm out. The forearm clipped X's head, clotheslining the smaller robot.</p>
<p>Sigma went to make a tight turn, hoping to pounce on X before he could recover. That just allowed the next plasma bolt to strike him in the chest- close enough that X couldn't miss. It made Sigma stagger back just a moment, and then X had slithered away yet again.</p>
<p>Sigma could maintain this a while- those buster shots hurt, but he had a fair number he could still take, and he only had to get close once. Once would be enough.</p>
<p>Enough to...</p>
<p>"You're really fighting to kill me, aren't you?" Sigma bellowed.</p>
<p>"I'll use as much force as I need to," X said. He'd gone close to another wall, restoring range yet again, and his buster was leveled. "You should do the same. What do you hope to accomplish? Fight as hard as you need to get there."</p>
<p>"You want us to kill each other?!" Sigma cried.</p>
<p>"No," X said. "I still hold out hope we won't need to go that far. But I'm not willing to stand down. If you aren't, either..."</p>
<p>This couldn't be happening! "You... you never fought like this for me! You never fought like this for reploids!" The pain was inside Sigma, it was like- like power regulation was trying to physically eject itself from his chest, like his head was trying to fly apart, like the world was upside down and he was slamming against every surface. "You're only fighting this way when it's against me! I don't understand! Don't you love me? I thought you loved me!"</p>
<p>"I do!" X said, but Sigma didn't believe him. Not anymore. Not where it counted. Was that a lie, too? How many times had he been lied to? None of this made sense.</p>
<p>"If you loved me you wouldn't shoot me!" Sigma said.</p>
<p>"I love you, and that makes it hard to shoot you," X said.</p>
<p>"You've never shot anyone else!" Sigma cried. "Just me! What's wrong with you? What's wrong with me? No... nooo!" Sigma couldn't stand the sight of the buster barrel of his father pointed at him. Couldn't stand it, that sight broke his reality. He barreled forward, barely in control of his own movements. Instinct and experience guided him along.</p>
<p>Another hit to his chest, but X spent too much time aiming it. When he started to move away, Sigma didn't try to grab him. He sent a fist flying. It hit with enough force to make X spin like a top, barely keeping his feet. Sigma followed up while the elder was off-balance. A strong kick, then another punch to the abdomen. X had slowed down, he was barely dodging, Sigma was able to connect easily with attack after attack-</p>
<p>What was that noise?</p>
<p>Sigma's next punch ended up pinned between X's arm and body, interrupting Sigma and tying the two robots together. X's other arm raised. The noise was much louder, now- a whining noise from the buster end of X's hand.</p>
<p>X released it at point blank range.</p>
<p>Sigma's damage report told him little the pain didn't. It was a broad plasma shot, one that caused temperatures to spike across Sigma's torso and burned his top layers of armor clean off. Sigma could not take another shot like that- at least, not without considerable time to shore up his defenses.</p>
<p>Enraged, Sigma used his hooked arm to pull X in and punched him in the face- once, twice, three times. When X still managed to raise his buster in Sigma's direction, Sigma slung him through the air. X's focus was disrupted from the punches; what little he'd had he'd spent trying to raise his weapon. He was helpless in the air and landed hard.</p>
<p>Sigma's armor sizzled as it cooled. "You really mean to kill me, don't you?" he said. "You took my hits while you charged. You were willing to be hurt so that you could deliver such a strong attack without missing."</p>
<p>"There's a metaphor here," X said as he once more rolled to his feet.</p>
<p>Metaphor? Who had time for metaphor at a time like this? Sigma knew only one thing- that X had fired with intent to kill.</p>
<p>And Sigma hadn't. He hadn't been fighting at that level. Otherwise he would have been using his saber from the start, and X would have long since been dead. Was this what X meant? Use as much force as you need to?</p>
<p>He needed to use as much as X was using. Or more. Get hit, hit back.</p>
<p>Just like with Abel City. Sigma had to use all the force- everything the reploid race could muster, because only by annihilation could reploids survive.</p>
<p>That must be X's metaphor! Sigma had to treat X like an enemy if he wanted to survive.</p>
<p>But why? Why why why? Why was X doing this?</p>
<p>Didn't matter, instinct said. Didn't matter, experience said. Kill that which would kill you. Sigma was the protector of all reploids. Attacking him... was the same as attacking the whole species. X was attacking him. That meant X was attacking reploids.</p>
<p>He had changed, indeed.</p>
<p>Sigma didn't understand what was happening. He didn't understand what X was trying to say, or what he was trying to do. He was fluent in the language of violence, though, and X's message had been unmistakable. "I will kill you." He had only one response to that.</p>
<p>He drew his saber.</p>
<p>X noticed. "To the death, then?"</p>
<p>"As if it wasn't already!" Sigma roared, and threw a smoke grenade. That would obscure his movements, thwart the aim of a ranged enemy while he closed...</p>
<p>With a whooshing sound, the smoke was dispersed. Sigma's charge ended before it even started; he pulled up to reevaluate. He looked and saw X holding one arm out. Instead of a buster emitter, there was an extension that looked a lot like a fan or a turbine.</p>
<p>"Weapon Copy System," X said. "I can scan and copy any weapon I touch. Now consider this: every Maverick we've ever had has been beneath my hands at least once. What do you suppose that means?"</p>
<p>It means, Sigma thought to himself, that you're a fool for showing it and saying that. You never show your powers to the enemy, lest he prepare for them, just as Sigma was keeping his saber unlit so that X couldn't judge its true length. This was just a mind-game, something to unnerve Sigma. Well, he was the veteran. He could see through such tricks.</p>
<p>Sigma charged forward. X's arm was moving- presumably trying to swap back to something more useful than a turbine- so he wasn't quite ready to shoot. Sigma began a swing far too early, sweeping from down and behind him forward.</p>
<p>X wasn't his target, except indirectly. Sigma's saber dragged along the floor, melting and cutting and sparking. It created a bright light, drawing X's attention and spoiling his aim for that single critical moment. Then Sigma swept his saber up. The beam cut through X's line of vision, making him wince and turn away, while sending harmless but painful gobbets of molten metal spattering across X's body.</p>
<p>And then the bodies collided and the battle was won.</p>
<p>Sigma's mass overpowered X. The two tumbled to the ground with Sigma on top. He was reacting instantly, taking advantage like the expert he was. His left arm blocked out X's hand and levered Sigma's torso up enough that he could bring his saber in. The energy blade was between the robots' bodies. Sigma pressed down. As he expected, X went for Sigma's arm with his spare hand, but that couldn't last. Sigma was too big, too strong, too heavy. Gravity would be the edge he needed. The blade would come down sooner or later.</p>
<p>At this close range, he could clearly see X's expressions. Fear flit across it. That, Sigma had experience with. This was familiar. Sigma had brought death to many before. He was inexorable, unstoppable. No enemy of reploids could stand against him.</p>
<p>If X insisted on making himself an enemy of reploids, then he, too, had to answer to Sigma.</p>
<p>Sigma knew how to deal with enemies.</p>
<p>He pressed down.</p>
<p>X's hand buckled but held. Then, as Sigma watched, the fear vanished. X's other hand made a strange noise, and a cloud came pouring out of it.</p>
<p>Sigma jerked back at first, almost breaking off his clinch with the saber, but he recovered quickly. This- this wasn't an attack! It was just a wet gas, not plasma. Sigma's hand was holding X's arm such that the barrel wasn't pointed at Sigma anyway. This was the best he could do, just spray Sigma down with something freezing cold. Compared to the heat of the saber, it was almost refreshing.</p>
<p>Sigma pressed down again. He could almost hear the grinding of metal on metal as both robots forced themselves into the clinch. Still the vapor raced across Sigma's face. He almost smiled. It was nothing. So what if it was uncomfortably cold, even bitterly cold? That didn't do anything, and soon X would be experiencing a fatal case of overheating thanks to a saber in the chest.</p>
<p>He pressed down.</p>
<p>There was a crinkling sound, then a crunching sound, then a splitting sound, and Sigma's face erupted in pain.</p>
<p>Howling, Sigma pulled his torso back and grabbed for his face, trying to make sense of what he felt. His face felt like it had split apart from the inside, like the areas beneath each eye had turned into gaping wounds. Before he could react or understand it, X shoved him further up, gave him a two-handed slam to stagger him up, and slipped out of Sigma's grasp again.</p>
<p>Still on his knees, Sigma looked up at his enemy through half-shut eyes. "What did you do to me?" he said, even as his hands grasped at his injured face.</p>
<p>"I used Dalmatian's cooling system," X said. "It's designed to put out fires in flammable metals, and those burn at thousands of degrees. Your skin has a little insulation from the likeflesh covering, but it's metal underneath, and metal is great at conducting heat.</p>
<p>"Most materials, including metal, contract when they're cooled," X continued. "Water is weird. Water expands when it freezes. So if metal contracts and ice expands, something has to give."</p>
<p>"Water?" Sigma spat. "What water?"</p>
<p>"Your tear ducts," X said, and his face was sad, pained, as if it was his face that had split apart. "Dr. Cain told me I was being whimsical when I installed them into you. I held firm. I wanted you to be able to express every emotion you could feel."</p>
<p>X closed his eyes- he reopened them, rapidly, realizing he was still under threat. The look he gave Sigma- it was one of pity, but it infuriated Sigma, enraged him. X had just hurt Sigma and he had the gall to feel bad about it? Had the gall to patronize Sigma over it? Rust him! Rust him where it hurt!</p>
<p>"Sigma," X said, as if the words were being squeezed out of him, "if you'd felt any remorse at all for what you've done, that attack wouldn't have worked."</p>
<p>Sigma surged to his feet. He would hear no more words like that! X would make no more faces like that at him! This was going to end in death, Sigma swore it.</p>
<p>Before Sigma took his first step, X shot out the light. The room was plunged into darkness. Sigma didn't have time to think about whether or not to swap to infrared before brightness blinded him- fire! Fire rushing at his face!</p>
<p>Sigma stopped, closed his eyes, put his spare hand in front of his face. The flame was gone as quickly as it had come. The next pain Sigma felt was in his left foot- searing pain, and a damage report that came in as quickly as the loss of balance announcing that the whole front of his foot was gone. Sigma fell to his left knee. His right hand was held out awkwardly, trying to keep his saber away from his body when he couldn't keep himself safe from it-</p>
<p>And then the saber was through his chest.</p>
<p>"Don't move," X said.</p>
<p>Sigma froze in place. Damage control started to put together an assessment, but one message came over all of it: <em>power regulation damaged</em>.</p>
<p>"Your beam saber," X said, "is just north of your power distribution center. It's pierced your surge protection. Any big movements from you, and your power distribution won't be able to control its output. The resulting surge will fry your brain. Not to mention that if you move much the saber will hit your distribution center, with the same result."</p>
<p>The notion came to Sigma as X went through his speech. Had he just... lost?</p>
<p>To X?</p>
<p>In a battle of life and death?</p>
<p>None of this made any sense, this least of all- there was a certain fantastic quality to the scene, even now that he felt and saw X's hands on his right arm, having guided Sigma's weapon back into its owner.</p>
<p>"Aren't you... going to kill me?" Sigma asked.</p>
<p>"That's not what I wanted," X said. "It's never what I wanted. If I killed you, what would I be saying? That no one can learn from their mistakes? That no one is more than their mistakes? No. You are… and maybe I am, too. So here's what I want. I want you to shut down to stage zero. If you do that, I'll disconnect your head. Sometime later- after we have time- I'll rebuild you, and we'll start over. We'll be a family again, Sigma. That's what I want. After we've achieved peace."</p>
<p>No- this was wrong, wrong, wrong! Enemies didn't deserve mercy, and they certainly never showed mercy. This was a trick, a trap. One more lie on top of all the other ones X had told him. It was just a plot to get him out of the way so that X could do... whatever it was he was trying to do to doom reploids.</p>
<p>But why did he need to do something so elaborate?</p>
<p>Because Sigma wasn't actually going to die here! And X knew that!</p>
<p>Sigma heard Serges' voice in his mind. <em>As long as you fight in the shadow of the teleport system...</em></p>
<p>X had to disconnect Sigma from his power source so he could kill Sigma permanently. If Sigma died while still operating, the backup system would reincarnate him- if Serges' system could be trusted.</p>
<p>It was that or die here, wasn't it? And there was a slight chance, even now, that Sigma could draw the saber from his chest and slice X properly.</p>
<p>Anything to wipe that expression of X's face.</p>
<p>Roaring in defiance, Sigma pulled his arm and saber, and-</p>
<hr/>
<p>"No!" X cried, but the clanking of Sigma's body hitting the ground drowned him out.</p>
<p>X reached for Sigma's head immediately, closing his eyes to shut out unneeded inputs. Was he okay? Had it worked? Why had he done that? He almost regretted installing it when there was so much risk, why hadn't he insisted on a controlled test...</p>
<p>Nothing.</p>
<p>The central components of Sigma's core and memory were completely gone.</p>
<p>X breathed a sigh of relief. Okay, so his son was maybe not dead. He didn't really feel better. He'd still shoved Sigma's beam saber back through his chest. That wasn't what he'd call a good thing.</p>
<p>A great weariness settled over him. He felt emotionally burnt out. He'd felt entirely too much. All these extremes of emotion had left him empty inside. He felt like stretched-out elastic- it just couldn't snap back any more. Was this fatigue? Shock? Or some kind of mental defense, a subconscious way of deferring stress until it could be dealt with later? All of a sudden, the old claims that he could experience the entire emotional range were very believable. He half-felt he'd invented new emotions to experience along the way.</p>
<p>What was going to happen to them now?</p>
<p>His family was disintegrating around him. Sigma might be dead- at best he was in electronic purgatory- and even in the best case the bond of father and son had been ruptured. And that was just amongst the people X knew personally. Out in the bigger world, who knew what was going on?</p>
<p>That, at least, had a straightforward solution: go look. Go to where the information was.</p>
<p>He saw the way forward- only a little, but very clearly. He felt with surety that he would know what to do when he saw it. This was how humans felt when they were drunk, wasn't it? Maybe. Hard to tell. Or maybe this was some kind of Zen trance where his conscious mind was only partially engaged.</p>
<p>X stepped forward. He barely felt it. Going up the ladder was trivial when his body weighed nothing. When he got out of the hatch, he expected there to still be the scent of explosives. He was surprised to notice it had mostly dispersed. How long had he been down there, anyway? Almost certainly too long.</p>
<p>The smell wasn't the only thing missing. Zero's body was gone, too. X hadn't expected that. Still, he wasn't surprised. Surprise was a reaction, and he couldn't respond to much at that time.</p>
<p>He accessed his radio- having copied down the Mavericks' frequencies and protocols before he'd left. "Maverick Home," he said, "this is X, coming home."</p>
<p>"Use coordinate set two," came the reply.</p>
<p>Teleportation barely felt different from standing. Maybe there was something to Sigma's notion of X as transcending...</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: Promises Kept</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Promises Kept</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Roy was sitting on the couch. His mom was still sobbing in her room. Roy had tried to comfort her for a while, but it hadn't seemed to make any difference. Eventually he'd moved to the couch. That wasn't much better. It was less audible from here, but he could still hear it. There was no escape in such a small apartment.</p>
<p>A harsh knocking came from the door. That caught Roy by surprise. For a brief moment he worried- was his mom right? Were the robots coming for them? No... that was ridiculous. If the robots were on the rampage they wouldn't have bothered to knock. Roy stood and shuffled towards the door. He slow-walked in the hopes that his guest would go away.</p>
<p>More knocks put an end to that notion. They were louder and more violent than the first ones. "Coming, coming," he said. Guarded curiosity laced with worry crept up on him. Who would be out at a time like this?</p>
<p>Now that he was closer to the door and further from his mother, he heard a lot of noises outside, bustling and tramping and stamping. He cracked the door open. His eyes widened at the sight. "Allen! What are you doing?"</p>
<p>"Pressing," Allen said.</p>
<p>Roy opened the door a little more. Behind Allen were more people, some uniformed like Allen, others in plain clothes like Roy. "Pressing? Pressing what?"</p>
<p>Allen answered by reaching to grab Roy's shoulder. Roy shook him off with an indignant "Dude!" That didn't stop Allen, and the second time he succeeded in pulling Roy out of the door.</p>
<p>"We've all got to go," said Allen. Roy tried to break free, but Allen was too strong. "Everyone in the militia's gotta bring someone with them to the muster. Orders."</p>
<p>"What the hell?" said Roy as Allen forced him into the crowd. Allen didn't have to hustle him bodily for very far. Soon, they were in the middle of a stream of people all headed down and out of the apartment complex. Roy couldn't do anything but move with the crowd. "Where are we going?"</p>
<p>"Muster station," Allen replied. "Everyone's getting armed so we can go kill those bastards."</p>
<p>He didn't specify which bastards he meant. Oh, Roy realized. He must think it's obvious. So... the reploids, then?</p>
<p>The crowd was getting thicker as it hit the street. There wasn't much room to move. Allen pressed in against Roy's back, while other nameless, faceless people pushed against him from all sides. One of them kept stepping on Roy's feet, but there wasn't room to look down and see who, and he didn't know what he'd do if he found out.</p>
<p>Roy discovered that he was scared and didn't know why. <em>When I said I wanted a job, this isn't what I meant</em>, he said. It took several seconds for him to realize he hadn't spoken. He couldn't have, because no one replied. Or maybe he had spoken and no one had heard him- though, really, what was the difference there?</p>
<p>On they flowed like a viscous stream, a stinking, murmuring mass of humanity. There was no chance to change direction or speed. The crowd has its own logic. Why am I here? Roy wondered. He was pretty sure he didn't say that aloud. Not that anyone would have cared.</p>
<p>Roy tried to look back to catch Allen's attention. Each time he started to look away he was jostled by the press of people and had to look forward again. It took all of his concentration just to keep pace with the crowd.</p>
<p>The crowd he was in pushed around a corner onto a major street and merged with an even bigger crowd. Thousands upon thousands of people, a crush of them, grinding against each other like mismatched gears. People everywhere. Arms stuck, useless. Hard to breathe. Forward, forward...</p>
<p>A very large screen was sprawled across some buildings' faces on the far side of the street. It was filled with the image of a politician giving a speech. There was too much noise in the street to hear much of it. Roy did catch a glimpse of the blurb beneath it. "Luke Parker"- never heard of him- "Citizen Protector"- huh. Roy hadn't paid much attention in government class (even then he'd felt it was all bullshit) but he was pretty sure he would have noticed if he'd heard that title before. What was this shit?</p>
<p>Slowly the procession moved past the monitor. Now that he was closer he could make out snippets of what was being said.</p>
<p>"...they have brought war to our schools and churches, our jobs and markets, so we must bring war right back to them..." (Don't remember war in my market. Was that what happened tonight?)</p>
<p>"...we've shown them the softness of humanity and this is their reply; it's time to show them our hardness..." (Was that a penis joke?)</p>
<p>"...if they demand violence, it is violence they will get; those who sow the wind will reap the whirlwind... (Well, okay, that makes sense.)</p>
<p>"...they will learn what will happen when they spit at kindness..." (Yeah, that's pretty legit.)</p>
<p>"...we will triumph!"</p>
<p>It helped to know where he was going. It made him feel better. We're doing the right thing. Ten thousand people can't be wrong. We'll do this together. Everyone's doing it.</p>
<p>Before, Roy had floated alone like ice riding on the surface of a river. Now he melted into it, became part of it. Roy was one with the river. It flowed on towards the militia center, where a handful of City Hall's agents were frantically handing out weapons.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Sigma opened his eyes.</p>
<p>He didn't see much, just the inside of the closet, but that was okay. That he had eyes to open was the bigger point. So Serges' invention worked, after all. Functional immortality, as long as he fought in the shadow of the teleport system.</p>
<p>Then he remembered why he had to use the teleport system, and he felt rage building up inside of him. How dare he! How dare the Father of All act this way! How dare he- why, that should have killed Sigma! Would have! That's what X was willing to do!</p>
<p>Well, he could burn with the humans he loved so much, then. Sigma was ready to begin again- the only question was sequencing. Did he want to go take his revenge on X first, or did he want to reestablish control of the Mavericks first? Either one was-</p>
<p>Click.</p>
<p>It was an audible click, a loud one. Strange as it seemed, he felt as if the sound had come from his own voicebox.</p>
<p>"So you failed to kill X, I see. What a disappointment."</p>
<p>The voice wasn't from the outside- coming over the radio? Did this body have an internal radio? That was great, but... that voice was Serges'. The ghost spoke again before Sigma had a chance to react.</p>
<p>"I didn't need you to do much. You had every advantage- you knew X well, you had years of combat experience, and you're a close-in type fighting a ranged type in a confined area. Well, if you didn't manage to kill him then, you're not going to kill him under less ideal circumstances. I have no further use for you."</p>
<p>Sigma tried to access the transmitter, but somehow that data was missing. Before he started trying to figure out what he needed to do, there was another loud click. "Enjoy this recording I made for you," Serges said.</p>
<p>Sigma tried to move, to escape this closet in which Serges had hid his new body. It didn't work. His arms were impossibly heavy. His legs seemed welded to the ground. He couldn't move. He heard Serges' voice again, and this time it was far more immediate. He'd been able to tell that the previous voice was coming from the outside; this voice was coming from inside his own head.</p>
<p>"So you've taken residence in this new body I built for you," boomed the accented voice of the madman. "Wonderful. That means you've put your trust in me. You've put yourself in my power." Sigma felt the smile that came next. "You magnificent moron."</p>
<p>Hot. His body was getting hot. Sigma knew from heat, he'd been hit by plasma often enough, but this was coming from the inside. He knew instantly that this wasn't supposed to be happening. Machinery that worked properly didn't heat up like this when it wasn't doing anything. This was wrong.</p>
<p>"I can guess what you're thinking. Why can't I move? Why am I so hot? Tell me, Sigma- well, I suppose you can't, but you understand- are you familiar with the concept of a 'kill switch'? In this case, I'm using the term rather literally."</p>
<p>Too hot- the heat from buster shots faded quickly, but this was staying, getting more intense rather than less, and he couldn't escape it because it was underneath his skin. Now he couldn't even think clearly, the heat was everywhere, all he could feel...</p>
<p>"If you're hearing this then you have failed me. You aren't the first, and you won't be the last. I'm normally rather tolerant of failure, but in this case... no. You don't get mercy."</p>
<p>He couldn't move! He was sure that if he could move the heat would feel better, at least it might make sense, but even trying his hardest he couldn't get his arms to do more than sway. If he couldn't move, he couldn't fight this- but if he could move, what would he do to fight this, when it was inside him and he couldn't get away...</p>
<p>"You insulted me, Sigma. You doubted me. You underestimated me. You tried to bury me. I won't be put down by the likes of you. Do you know what you are? You're second-hand scrap metal. You're inferior engineering. Your precious X is an amateur. If he were any good your first body wouldn't have been so pathetic. Don't imagine that you're more than you are."</p>
<p>Arms wouldn't work- maybe legs? He tried to shuffle a foot along, even a little. He succeeded only in buckling his own knee. He had no strength to correct this. His balance vanished; he fell backwards against the closet walls first, then pitched forward into the doors. They opened up before him and down he went.</p>
<p>"X recognized me when he saw me. Did he tell you that? Of course he didn't. He knows who I am. He didn't expose me either. He cut a deal with me. How do you like those apples? How does it feel to know that X was willing to collude with a human at your expense?"</p>
<p>Sigma heard a voice, but very distantly. He couldn't reply to it, try though he might. The heat was everywhere. It was getting worse- it was more than painful now, it was searing, like his whole body was flooded with buster fire. He wanted to scream, but his voice wouldn't work. He wanted to writhe, but his muscles wouldn't work. He wanted to escape, but he was trapped, utterly.</p>
<p>A thought managed to wriggle to the surface. He'd chosen to flee to Serges' spare body to escape from X. That meant… he'd placed his trust in Serges.</p>
<p>This was nothing more than he deserved, for trusting a human.</p>
<p>Serges had betrayed him, and X had betrayed him. Between the two of them, the reploid race was doomed. Sigma thought this as his mind sank below the heat, and when conscious thought became impossible, the despair remained.</p>
<p>"Oh, yes. I remember now that I never told you who I really was. Serges? Ha! To think you believed that. You have nothing else to pay attention to, so let this be the last thought you have: I am Albert Wily... and you are dead."</p>
<p>Sigma's eyes opened enough to see a terrified reploid looking down at him. Then the heat surged within him, his body came apart, and Sigma Light was no more.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Wily savored the feeling of triumph. One delicious piece of revenge was out of the way. More would come. And to think he'd been worried! When Sigma had demanded the backup system be checked, Wily had been forced to consider that Sigma would have the backup body be checked, too. Not that he was worried about Sigma knowing a kill switch when he saw one, but X might have been careful enough to spot it. But no, Sigma had been sloppy, and Wily had told the right lies, and things had gone just about to plan. Wonderful.</p>
<p>Now it was time to commandeer the base's communications systems. His backdoor into Abel City's broadcast system was complete. The next step in the plan was to use that backdoor to announce his triumphant return. They'd forgotten his name, wiped him out of history. Well, he'd return the favor as soon as he was done gloating-</p>
<p>"I don't think so."</p>
<p>That voice! Wily recognized it instantly, through the haze of a hundred years and form-shifting and the fact that it wasn't really audio that he heard. Digitally-produced simulacrum or no, he would have known that voice for the rest of eternity.</p>
<p>"Roll?"</p>
<p>The data flowing to him produced an image. There she was, just as she'd been once upon a time: a humanoid figure similar to a tweener girl, with a long blonde ponytail and a red dress. Even her expressions of anger were adorable. Thomas' handiwork- he'd insisted that if robots could appeal to human emotions they would be more easily accepted.</p>
<p>For someone who <em>did</em> accept robots and didn't need that aesthetic's help, the cuteness was almost overpowering. "What are you doing here?" Wily managed.</p>
<p>"I maintain the firewall that guards the inner enclave," she replied.</p>
<p>Wily's metaphorical jaw dropped. No wonder he hadn't been able to get through! He'd suspected something had been fighting him back- no static program, however cleverly designed, had stood in his way that long. One managed by an intelligent, well-trained, long-experienced foe, on the other hand, a foe that had sparred with him plenty of times before... That made sense.</p>
<p>Except... "You died," he protested. "You died- I saw it! You were hopelessly irradiated trying to drag survivors out of Tel Aviv! Even Thomas wrote you off!"</p>
<p>"He wrote off my body, yes," Roll replied. "But he had theories about how to preserve robot consciousness. You shouldn't be so surprised- you did the same with your brain, and you had to cross media to make that happen."</p>
<p>Wily couldn't shake the feeling of surprise. He hadn't known- he'd been so sure- "Roll," he said, "why didn't you tell me? Why didn't Thomas? When I heard you died, I- I couldn't help myself... Roll, I nuked Jerusalem for your sake!"</p>
<p>Roll's eyes flashed with her anger. "I didn't ask you to do that!" she hissed. "I wouldn't have wanted you to do that for me! That's why even Rock stopped giving you chances, and Rock was gentler than I ever was."</p>
<p>She crossed her arms and gave him a haughty look. "I thought that maybe, <em>maybe</em> after a century you might have learned. I almost didn't believe that timestamp when I woke up, when Little Brother arrived and activated this place... so I didn't say anything when you came. I just did what Father told me to do. I guarded the firewall, made contact with the other refuges, and watched. Maybe you had learned. Maybe you had softened. Maybe you didn't hate us anymore."</p>
<p>"I never hated you!" Wily said. "I mean, yes, I wanted to destroy Mega Man, but I didn't hate Rock- it wasn't personal..."</p>
<p>"No more talking from you," Roll said. When Wily tried to talk back, he discovered that the port he'd used to transmit language to her had been blocked. Uh-oh- he was in her realm, now, she was the robot master of this place...</p>
<p>"You used my systems," she said, voice dangerously low. "You used this home to build a trap. You used that trap to kill my nephew. I can never forgive you for that. You are... you are..." She drew herself to her full (albeit digital) height. "Albert Wily, you are a bad man!"</p>
<p>That left Wily completely speechless. Even if the port had been unblocked he would have had nothing to transmit. That was perhaps the least vile insult he'd ever received; if he'd been able to think, he might have thanked her for praising him with faint damns. Yet context is everything. Even if her <em>logos</em> was nothing special, her <em>ethos</em> super-charged the words.</p>
<p>This was a Light! The Lights were almost comically goody-two-shoes, even in the midst of a war. If a normal person were to try and generate the same shock that Roll had produced with those simple words, the normal person would have to swear with enough vehemence to cause paint to peel and pets to spontaneously combust.</p>
<p>"Bad men don't belong here," Roll said, and waved her hand.</p>
<p>Before Wily could even begin to gather himself, he felt a wave of disorientation- and when it was over, he had been exiled from the base's systems. His ejection had been so forceful that it somehow caused him to manifest his hologram.</p>
<p>He tried to pull himself together. The reploids in the command center were milling about- still waiting, then.</p>
<p>"What's taking so long?" Stein fretted. "Commander Sigma and X should have been back long ago!"</p>
<p>"The window's closing minute by minute," said another member of the command staff. "The longer we wait, the more Abel City will be able to regroup."</p>
<p>Stein noticed Wily's hologram. "Aren't you going to say something?" Stein shot at him. "What do you think?"</p>
<p>"I-" Wily/Serges shook his head. Hard to remember what was happening up here. "Uh... I think we should be ready for anything," he managed. "We don't know what Sigma and X were... are up to... out there..."</p>
<p>"Sigma's dead!"</p>
<p>All eyes went to the source of the sound. A reploid had run into the room with wide eyes and panic on his face. "What do you mean?" Stein said.</p>
<p>"I was down in the parts shop," the reploid said. His voice was unsteady, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just seen. "The commander was down there. I don't know how he got there, but he was there, I swear! And he... he fell to pieces right in front of me!"</p>
<p>"The commander fell to pieces?" Stein said. He couldn't respond in any other way. Cognitive dissonance was overpowering.</p>
<p>"He did! He came to pieces in front of me! I know it sounds crazy, but that's what happened, I'd recognize that face anywhere. The commander was in the parts shop, and now he's dead!"</p>
<p>The members of the command staff began to turn in Serges' direction. The reploid from the parts shop didn't understand at first, and his confusion grew as the air thickened with hostility. Serges quickly schooled his expression into something cool and uninvolved, but that didn't affect the reploids at all.</p>
<p>"Never trust your wizard," Stein said quietly.</p>
<p>The ring of Mavericks around Serges began to contract. He noticed. "What's this about?" he demanded.</p>
<p>"If I die an unnatural death, you'll know who to blame," Stein quoted. More energy was in his voice this time. Together, all the reploids converged upon Serges' core. "Use your judgment."</p>
<p>"What judgment? What are you doing? What do you mean, who to- don't come any closer! Explain what you're... no, stop! What are you trying to- go away! Shoo! No- no, don't touch that! What are you- no- no, stop! No! NOOOO!"</p>
<hr/>
<p>X opened his eyes on arrival. What he saw brought a slight, wry smile to his face. "I had to hope," he said. "I wasn't sure, but I suspected. Have you been waiting long?"</p>
<p>"Not long," was the answer. "Just a few minutes."</p>
<p>A hand extended an E-tank, which X gratefully accepted. "Were you worried?" X asked.</p>
<p>"Of course I was worried. You were alone in hostile territory, and I didn't have the coordinates to reach you."</p>
<p>"You were worried. Huh. At least I didn't actually die, unlike some people." X gave a mild but pointed look.</p>
<p>Zero contrived to look embarrassed. "I didn't mean to make you worry," he said. "I... I..."</p>
<p>X recognized what was missing. "The word you're looking for is "sorry"," he said. "The phrase is "I'm sorry". You'll have plenty of chances to say it soon. For now..." X was walking for the door out of the staging area, but before he went out he placed the spent E-tank neatly on a shelf, "...we have work to do."</p>
<hr/>
<p>"This is a bad idea, George," Maria said. Her voice filled the cab of the news van.</p>
<p>Paladin (it was turning out to be easy for George to think of himself like that again- like putting on an outfit he hadn't worn in a while) shushed her without taking his eyes off the road. "It'll be fine. We're almost there."</p>
<p>"'We're almost there'? That's the problem! I told you, I can do an 'investigative report' of the reploid uprising without seeing reploids. We don't need to go there."</p>
<p>"This time we do," said Paladin. "We've got a good scoop this time. And look! See? The guards are still there. There's nothing to worry about." He pointed at the guard shack. It looked shot-up, but two people in guard uniforms were standing inside of it. They looked nervous. Paladin decided that was to be expected, given the circumstances.</p>
<p>He looked briefly at the gates. They had been blown apart. Parts of them were strewn meters beyond their original spots. Paladin was sure he could navigate through that mess, but it might be a little tricky. In any event, that would probably explain why there were two guards in the shack instead of one.</p>
<p>Paladin slowed the van as he approached the blown-out gates. One of the guards exited the shack and started walking across the front of the van, while the other approached the driver's side door.</p>
<p>What the- was that a burn hole in his jacket? And color along the back of his head? Where was his hair? And... were his hands <em>purple</em>?</p>
<p>Maria voiced the conclusion as Paladin arrived at it. "They're reploids!"</p>
<p>In a flash the two reploids had drawn and pointed weapons. The attack, however, came from Maria, who was smacking Paladin's head and shoulder. "You idiot! I told you this would happen! I <em>told</em> you this was a bad idea!"</p>
<p>"Ow- stop it!" Paladin looked out at the reploid on his side of the van, who looked bewildered at what was happening before him. "Is there a woman named Susan in there?"</p>
<p>"Huh?" said the reploid. None of this seemed to be within his expectations.</p>
<p>"I came here because I got a call from a woman named Susan- would you cut it out?!" he shouted at Maria, who hit him in the head one more time for good measure. "I came because I got a call from a woman named Susan. She said the most important news story of the decade was happening in here, and that if I came to see her we'd get the scoop."</p>
<p>"If there's no scoop, well, you have no idea how fired you are," Maria huffed.</p>
<p>One of the guards finally summoned up enough presence of mind to lift a radio. "Longinus, we've got a news van at the primary gate."</p>
<p>"No scrap? Well, bring 'em in, then! Bring 'em around to the yard."</p>
<p>One of the guards said to the other, "You take them in, I'll stay in the shack." That drew a nod, and the two reploids lowered their weapons. The one on Maria's side started waving the van through the wreckage.</p>
<p>"Slow," the reploid said. "Bring it around... straight now... okay, good. Alright, see that closest building? We're headed around its right side. The three buildings come together in the middle. There's a courtyard there- that's where we're going."</p>
<p>Paladin feathered the gas, idling through the open space between the gates and the buildings. What he saw in the light of the van's headlights didn't match the reploid's description. Courtyard? What courtyard? He saw a wall connecting to the two buildings. There was nowhere to go between them. As he approached, he saw that the wall was, well, not as solid as he'd thought: it seemed cobbled together, like it was made with building blocks.</p>
<p>Ah- so that had been a gap at one point. The reploids were industrious, apparently.</p>
<p>As the van approached, the wall split. The parts of it swung outwards like the whole thing was a French door.</p>
<p>Maria's voice disrupted his concentration. "And who's to say we'll be able to get out if you go in there? You'll be answerable to the producers if anything bad happens to us."</p>
<p>"I don't think our fate lies with them anymore," Paladin said as he eased into the courtyard. The place was bustling with activity. Reploids were moving through, carrying tools and pieces of machinery and building materials and who knew what else. They seemed to have an idea what they were doing, at least; it looked like bedlam to Paladin.</p>
<p>When he was fully inside the wall's threshold, he parked the van and turned it off. Most reploids kept on with whatever they were doing. Others approached the van, but they didn't say anything, not yet. As Paladin watched, another reploid approached pushing a cart. On the cart was yet another reploid, this one with green armor, but this one looked hurt. Its middle was an ugly, broken mess. It was shouting at some of the other reploids.</p>
<p>"Shore it up, that won't stand. Higher! No, wedge it in higher! There you go." It looked at the van and its eyes lit up. "Now we're talking! What a score. You've done a good... oh." He seemed to notice for the first time that Paladin was human. "Well, more human Mavericks, huh?" He gave a crooked grin. "You chose a wild time to join the cause."</p>
<p>"We're not here to join the cause," Maria said, crawling over Paladin to shout at the reploid. "I'm here for the story, that's all."</p>
<p>Paladin rolled his eyes. "Is Susan around here anywhere?"</p>
<p>That seemed to register with the reploid. "Yeah, she's talking to Longinus."</p>
<p>"Who's that?"</p>
<p>"We'll show you. Why don't the two of you get out?"</p>
<p>"What about the van?"</p>
<p>"We'll take good care of the van." That crooked grin again. "<em>Very</em> good care."</p>
<p>Maria glared daggers at Paladin. "You know that any property damage is coming out of your paycheck, right?"</p>
<p>Paladin laughed. "I'm not worried about that. Come on, Maria." He was hopping down, camera bag in hand, before she could raise much of a protest. Making grumpy noises, she followed.</p>
<p>A red-skinned reploid led them to a torn-out wall. Many reploids were passing through the opening, as if it had become a combination garage and anteroom. In the back of the room rested a ruined lump of human. Two more reploids stood nearby, hovering anxiously and holding radios. The human was in a Unitech guard's uniform. He was so pale it was scary.</p>
<p>Catching the attention of his minders, he pointed to the side of the room. Paladin glanced in that direction and saw a whole bank of monitors, showing a dozen camera views. "Have someone shore up the fence there. Leave the fence to the left down. We'll make a funnel. That'll give us a chance, unless they bring in the armor and roll over it." The minder turned and started speaking into a radio.</p>
<p>Longinus looked to his new guests at last. His gaze was sharp even though his movements were slow and obviously painful. Paladin's eyes strayed down to the human's belly. Rags and cloths were over the area, but the uniform around them was red with blood. Just how bad was he hurt?</p>
<p>"I don't know you," Longinus said. His eyes hit on Maria. "But you... I know you. Hell, half of Abel City knows you by sight. You're Maria Pritchard."</p>
<p>"That's right," she said stiffly.</p>
<p>"Huh," Longinus huffed. "I hadn't figured you for a Maverick."</p>
<p>"I'm not a Maverick, I'm here for the story," Maria said.</p>
<p>Longinus cocked his head. "That a fact? Well, I hate to break it to you, but you're part of the story now. I'm afraid we can't let you transmit anything. City Hall would kill to know what we're up to in here. They probably already have. No, we called you in here because we needed the equipment."</p>
<p>The glare Maria shot at Paladin was enough that he imagined he felt his skin heat up. "I figured it had to be something like that," he said with a sigh.</p>
<p>"You're fired," Maria said with enough fury to set leaves on fire. "You're fired for life. You're fired so hard your <em>children</em> won't be able to get jobs! You... you..."</p>
<p>"You came!"</p>
<p>Paladin looked to the side of the room. Susan was flying towards him with elation on her face. "Paladin! You actually came!"</p>
<p>He smiled as best he could with his insides churning. "Of course I came," he said. "Goddess called."</p>
<p>"Goddess?" Longinus said skeptically. He looked at George. "And Paladin? Rust me, none of us uses our real names, huh? What about you, Maria, what do you want to be called now? How does 'Cassandra' sound?"</p>
<p>"If that's a joke, I don't get it," she answered tersely.</p>
<p>Paladin looked at Goddess. "You're going to have to tell me sometime how you got mixed up with this," he said.</p>
<p>"Later," she replied. "First, you need to help me. Once the Mavericks have unloaded the van, you need to load up Longinus and get him to a hospital."</p>
<p>Longinus' eyes closed. "Not going," he said.</p>
<p>"It's not up to you," Goddess replied. "Look at you. You're dead unless we get you to safety."</p>
<p>"You're right, but not for the reason you think. I'm not going." He gave her a weak smile. "I'm the path-of-least-resistance guy, remember? I'm the lazy ass. Living would be way too much of a bother at this point."</p>
<p>"Then don't resist while we save your life."</p>
<p>"Not happening."</p>
<p>"Longinus," she said, stepping towards him.</p>
<p>As soon as she moved, the two reploid minders stepped in front of her. They suddenly seemed very solid and very serious. "It's alright, you two," Longinus said. They reluctantly backed up, but not much. "Look, I don't have the luxury of time to discuss this with you, but I'm not going. I'm not going to save myself and leave everyone else to die."</p>
<p>Goddess rolled her eyes. "You're not proving anything by staying here. Look at you, you can't even fight!"</p>
<p>"Not the point," Longinus retorted. "And just 'cause I can't fight doesn't mean I can't help."</p>
<p>"You're so full of shit," Goddess said. "Why would you stay here knowing you're going to die?"</p>
<p>"Because he's a man," Maria said. She was looking intensely at Goddess. "They're fools about these sorts of things. They can't help themselves. But we women... we're more pragmatic." She nodded. "We could still get away."</p>
<p>"Sorry, but that's not happening, either," Longinus said. He inclined his head towards the outside. The other humans looked in that direction. A team of reploids were under the van's hood. Large pieces of metal were coming out of it. The green-skinned reploid on the cart gave them a backwards glance and a sardonic salute.</p>
<p>Longinus gave a chuckle. "So, the bad news is that you're here until the end. But the good news..." he almost laughed, except his face screwed up in pain first; that didn't keep him from smiling. "...the good news is, you won't have long to wait."</p>
<hr/>
<p>"What's the last thing you remember?" X asked.</p>
<p>"I was telling you I needed to come with you," Zero replied.</p>
<p>"So that's why you didn't come join me," X said. "I only gave you the coordinates after that." He stopped moving right before the door to the command center. Zero noticed the seeming hesitation.</p>
<p>"What are you waiting for?" Zero asked.</p>
<p>"Just composing myself," X said.</p>
<p>Zero wondered what X meant by that. "Giving your self-repair a little more time to work?" he tried.</p>
<p>X chuckled. "Too bad I don't have longer."</p>
<p>"Your armor does look pretty bad," Zero said, eying the damage X had taken. Nothing too serious, the armor was still intact, but there had to be a strict limit on how much more punishment X could take.</p>
<p>"That's not what I meant," X said.</p>
<p>That left Zero completely behind, so he refocused. "I am sorry I wasn't there to help you fight," he said, trying the words for the first time. He didn't much like them. They felt alien, like he was speaking words from a language he didn't actually know.</p>
<p>"I know," X said. "And now it's time for me to be there to help others." With that he opened the door and walked in. Zero followed on his heels.</p>
<p>"X," several of the reploids murmured. They were standing tightly around the map table. Discomfort and surprise came over their faces. Zero wondered what they'd just interrupted.</p>
<p>"X, X!" said one of them. "Sigma's dead!"</p>
<p>That stopped X in his tracks. He seemed to gather himself to speak, but before he could, the reploid continued, "Serges killed him!"</p>
<p>Surprise flickered across X's face, quickly enough that Zero could barely see it. X's face twisted and turned as he grappled with this pronouncement. Zero had no idea what was going on in X's head any more than he knew what had really happened to Sigma. X looked like he was trying to speak and just couldn't manage it; several times he opened his mouth, reconsidered, and went back to churning.</p>
<p>It was a lot to process, Zero had to admit, but he couldn't help but feel there was more there unsaid. No one, perhaps, knew the truth but X.</p>
<p>And unless he chose to speak, the truth would die with him, too.</p>
<p>"Is that so?" he finally managed.</p>
<p>"Yeah," said the reploid. "But don't worry. We got Serges for ya." To prove it, he held up a piece of curved black plastic. Zero peered into the crowd. Now that he thought about it, there did seem to be a lot of mechanical trash lying around.</p>
<p>That meant...</p>
<p>"So that's what that was," Zero said. When X turned to give him a puzzled glance, Zero quickly said, "I have to go."</p>
<p>He teleported out before anyone could ask him any unwelcome questions.</p>
<hr/>
<p>There was no point asking an outbound beam of light where it was going. X shook it off and looked back to the command staff. "So... what's the status of the withdrawal?"</p>
<p>"Every team is out but comms team one," said Stein. Before X could order their withdrawal, Stein said, "Good thing, too. They're keeping tabs on what they can see. In fact..." Stein's hand went to his headset. "Getting something now. I'll put it on speaker."</p>
<p>Two voices came over the speaker. One was immediate, close and almost whispered- a comms team Maverick, certainly. The other voice was fuzzy, like it had been twice processed to make it this far. "They just started playing this video on loop," was the Maverick's voice. "It's on every screen we can see. It's... it's not good, boss."</p>
<p>Underneath the commentary, X could catch most of what was being said.</p>
<p>"...For three years we have humored them, built them, cared for them and fed them, and this is our repayment! Reploids have shown themselves to be bloodthirsty and savage. They have betrayed our trust and buried our hopes for peace. No matter what we did, it wasn't enough. Tonight they have demonstrated that they will never be satisfied until they have exterminated us.</p>
<p>"I say that will not be! If they intend to rise up, we will flatten them back down! We will repeat the glorious deeds of our ancestors, when they stood against the machines and triumphed. This is our time. This is our moment! Rally to City Hall! Rally to the Hunters! Let us unite to cleanse Abel City of the machine's taint!"</p>
<p>"Can they see the image of the speaker?" X asked.</p>
<p>Stein relayed the question. The spotter's voice came back, "According to the text block on the screen, it's Luke Parker."</p>
<p>"I see," X said. "I've heard enough." Stein cut the speaker feed, letting quiet come over the command room. X had read Alia's debriefing. He knew that Luke Parker preferred to operate behind the scenes. If he'd been flushed out, Abel City had been cut to the quick by Sigma's offensive. In that case, this response was to be expected, if reviled.</p>
<p>Genocide was coming. There wasn't much time.</p>
<p>"Is there any way for me to communicate with the city?" X asked. "Now that we have satellite access?"</p>
<p>"We were working on a way," Stein replied, "but Serges was really leading the charge there. And, well..." Almost nervously he dropped the plastic he'd been holding. If he'd been trying to be casual, it didn't work.</p>
<p>"Try and find it," X said.</p>
<p>Stein shrugged and looked at a display. "Okay, sure, we'll try, but... oh, here it is." Stein sounded more confused than anything. "That was easy."</p>
<p>(Roll reflected that help of this kind was outside of her mandate. It was well beyond what Dr. Light had instructed her to do. Really, though, she wasn't doing anything. Wily had come up with the technique, and he didn't belong here. The Mavericks could take or leave anything he'd done. Bringing the ex-human's actions to light was just helping her family clean the system.)</p>
<p>"I'll speak to the city," X said. "But first, we need to buy some time."</p>
<p>He paused for a moment. All eyes were on him. This was his time, he knew. Deposing a commander was easy. <em>Being</em> a commander… that was completely different.</p>
<p>Would they follow him?</p>
<p>He almost smiled when he imagined Zero's reaction to such a question. Smack to the head, probably. And it would be deserved.</p>
<p>X opened his mouth, and orders began to flow.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: Rapture</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Rapture</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One of the things lesser minds never appreciated was this: there was <em>always</em> another plan.</p>
<p>Losing a core was merely a setback- a significant setback, to be sure, but nothing more. It could be overcome so long as the fallback facility survived. And it would survive. It could survive nuclear carpet-bombing, laser satellite bombardment, polar cap liquefaction, and more besides. Even the most destructive force the world had ever known, Mega Man, would have been at a loss.</p>
<p>The facility was fully buried inside of a mountain. No physical access was necessary for the master of teleportation technology. There was only the slightest opening: a conduit that ran to the surface to propagate a teleport signal. It was tiny, requiring exceptional accuracy in targeting and resolution to hit. A double layer of teleport shields protected it, while physically the conduit was angled, trapped, and spliced in such a way that any attempt to tamper with it would break it instead. That, in turn, would activate the backup system, because why just engineer when you can over-engineer...</p>
<p>Wily was proud of the whole project. He'd had so many fortresses knocked down around him that the dream of impregnability was irresistible. All the forces of entropy were powerless against this. From here he could recover from anything.</p>
<p>It was almost better this way. Let those cheap pieces of garbage celebrate. Let them think they'd done something worthwhile, or even something remotely permanent. It would make it all the sweeter the next time he reappeared and they realized, No, Dr. Wily wasn't someone they could just be rid of.</p>
<p>Burning Abel City was a beginning, not an end. Wily was confident he'd done enough damage there that the city was doomed. The balance had shifted. Sure, X was out there and active, and now that he'd gotten his first taste of blood it was possible he'd become Mega Man X. But Wily had Zero, a head start, an impervious fallback, and a global reach, at least until the satellites fell out of the sky. That wouldn't be too long, but there were plenty of things Wily could do in the interim to help with that.</p>
<p>The upside of being forgotten (or buried, he thought bitterly) was that people didn't know better. Sigma had shown him this. Wily could go from place to place, ingratiating himself with the natives, leaving their cities in flames, and retreating each time to the safety of this invincible bastion...</p>
<p>Incoming teleport.</p>
<p>Incoming teleport?!</p>
<p>Zero materialized in the room. Wily manifested his hologram to face him. The light of his image and Zero's running lights were the only illumination. The light glanced off the smooth stone walls that had been hewn from the heart of the mountain. Zero was barely a meter away from Wily's S-core. By design, this room didn't need to be large. It was a close-fitting stone cocoon.</p>
<p>Wily did not enjoy sharing it.</p>
<p>"I know I didn't load these coordinates into you," Wily snapped. "How did you get here?"</p>
<p>"When my new body was activating, teleport detect came online," Zero replied. "I logged the traffic. This is where..." He looked down at his feet. Circuit cards and drives had been crushed by his arrival. "When the Mavericks killed your core, you sent the components back here. You cheated death again, using the same technique you used in me."</p>
<p>"Yes, yes, very smart," Wily grumbled. Why did his kids never think unless they were being contrary? "Now shoo. We both have work to do, and yours isn't here. Why, with all the fighting in Abel City, there should be nowhere you'd rather be! It's a playground for you now."</p>
<p>"And what if I want to save lives instead of taking them?" Zero asked.</p>
<p>Wily was taken aback, but rallied. "Sure, that's your prerogative if you want. We're conquering the world for you, after all, so you can do with it what you want."</p>
<p>"I don't want the world," Zero replied. "And I don't want you to wreck it, either."</p>
<p>There were so many ways Wily could go with that: that Zero having the world was his right, and the only way he'd be truly safe, and the way to really win; that Wily didn't want to wreck the world, his old species had done a fine job of that, thank you; that Wily only wanted to wreck select parts of the world; that it wasn't Zero's place to stop him; and so on. Before he could pick which tack he wanted to take, Zero reached over his shoulder.</p>
<p>That got Wily's attention.</p>
<p>"What are you doing?" he snapped.</p>
<p>Zero gave a short laugh. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he said. He ignited the saber and leveled it at the S-core. "I'm banishing a ghost."</p>
<p>He stabbed forward.</p>
<p>The S-core's data processors were encased in a block of tungsten carbide. (Wily could have opted for synthetic diamond, but tungsten carbide was almost as formidable and had the advantage of being dark rather than glittery.) The front part of the S-core was adorned with a white skull which was purely decorative but nevertheless necessary.</p>
<p>Zero's saber went right into the skull's left eye socket. There was a screeching sound and a flurry of sparks as irresistible force met immovable object. "Put that away, child," Wily hissed. "You don't know what you're doing."</p>
<p>Zero scoffed. "I absolutely know what I'm doing. I'm doing exactly what you wanted me to do. I'm being who you built me to be. I'm the destroyer. I am Zero."</p>
<p>"I thought you wanted to save people," Wily said drily.</p>
<p>"Then you should be proud of me now. I'm taking this role more seriously."</p>
<p>Wily rolled his eyes. "But you're being stupid about it. Typical. I never told you this because you didn't need to know, but this facility stores your spare bodies. This whole place will detonate if I die. If you let your damaged desires run away from you, you'll only be hurting yourself. You'll be killing your immortality."</p>
<p>The saber withdrew for a moment. "I don't want to die," Zero said.</p>
<p>"Then don't," Wily said shortly.</p>
<p>The saber plunged forward again. "But this isn't all about me," Zero said. "This is my wants... versus X's needs. If it comes down to that, I'll choose his needs every time, because he'd do the same for me."</p>
<p>"Don't tell me you're taking Lightbot rhetoric seriously," Wily said. "It's ruinous for everyone it touches."</p>
<p>"That's why you have to die," Zero replied. "Because you're impossible to convince, and you'll try to kill him no matter what. Whether X knows it or not, he needs you dead. The rest- what happens to my spare bodies-" Zero smiled. "Doesn't matter."</p>
<p>Horror washed through Wily. "No- no! You can't do that to yourself! You mean entirely too much!" Zero was the last, best expression of Wily's genius. If that went away, he was that much closer to oblivion.</p>
<p>Zero swapped sabers, and Wily suddenly realized that he'd be <em>much</em> closer to oblivion if Zero put a saber through the S-core. Was this... really happening? Wily snarled. "Are you betraying me? Are you going to turn on your father?"</p>
<p>"You turned on me first," Zero said.</p>
<p>"Turned on you? I have done nothing but advance your interests."</p>
<p>"You don't even know what my interests are," Zero shot back. "You've been advancing <em>your</em> interests. When I didn't obey, it was Orders for me."</p>
<p>"Of course. I'm your father. I understand the world, I can guide you..."</p>
<p>"It's too late to offer all of that now," Zero interrupted. "That's not what you did."</p>
<p>"You ungrateful punk! Just because you didn't understand what I did for you, couldn't see it..."</p>
<p>"Because I'm damaged?" Zero said mockingly.</p>
<p>Wily's face twisted into a sneer. "You're just like Blues and Forte! I built you, repaired you, indulged you, gave you the freedom and power to do whatever you wanted, and this is what you choose to do with it!"</p>
<p>Zero laughed. "What's the common denominator here?"</p>
<p>"Shut your mouth! You can't say that, you didn't know them!"</p>
<p>"Maybe you should have talked to me," Zero said acidly. "Maybe you should have explained instead of assuming I wouldn't get it."</p>
<p>Wily's hands went to his head. His vastly brilliant mind and he couldn't think of a single thing to do or say! This wasn't supposed to happen. He hadn't planned for this eventuality for the same reason he hadn't planned on, say, the sun going nova or gravity turning off. It wasn't plausible.</p>
<p>Yet here it was!</p>
<p>Zero shuffled forward to maintain his pressure, making Wily start. The S-core was made of a material which had the industrial use of being impossible to scratch, and Zero was drilling into it. Wily should have known. Nothing was impregnable. His tech was the counter to his tech.</p>
<p>"That snake," Wily snarled. "He's turned you against me. That Lightbot has corrupted you."</p>
<p>"He has a name," Zero retorted. "His name is X. Try to use it."</p>
<p>"I don't care if he has a name," Wily replied. "He gets no respect from me when he's harming you!"</p>
<p>"He hasn't harmed me," Zero replied. "It's the opposite. He sees me as more than I am. That's worth everything. That's why... that's why, when you told me to kill him, we became enemies."</p>
<p>"You value him more than your own father?"</p>
<p>"In a word? Yes."</p>
<p>"You fool!" Wily exploded. "He's already gotten you killed once!"</p>
<p>"Not his fault," Zero replied. "And even if it was, it's no loss. I'm damaged, aren't I? An embarrassment who won't think, who makes bad decisions... I've been listening to all the things you've said about me. Maybe I believe you."</p>
<p>Wily shook his head. "So what if I think those things? They're nothing but the truth, and it doesn't change the fact that I do care about you. I do! I don't want you to die, I want to keep you alive, I want to make this world safe for you. That's more than the Lightbot could ever do for you."</p>
<p>"You want to make this a world I can live in," Zero said. "But X wants to make this a world worth living in."</p>
<p>"It won't work," Wily said. "It can't. We know that. It's not how the world works. He will fail. You know how, and why."</p>
<p>"Yes, I know," Zero said. "That's why he needs my help. So I'll stand with him. I'll help him not to fail. And even if it doesn't work, it'll have been worth the effort, and do you know why? Because I'd rather live in a world of people like X than a world of people like you."</p>
<p>"But you're acting more like me than like him right now," Wily said.</p>
<p>"I told you that he needs me," Zero said. "This is something only I can do. And so I will."</p>
<p>Again Zero swapped sabers, never giving the armor case a chance to cool. Wily did some quick math in his head. Yes: with the quick recharge provided by the swaps, Zero could, in fact, breach the S-core. Wily didn't feel cold- he'd left that sensation behind in his human shell- but he did notice his brain feeling clouded and directionless. This wasn't possible! He was... he was really going to die!</p>
<p>He knew because there was no doubt that Zero would do it. He wasn't X. He wouldn't hesitate or deliberate. He wouldn't even feel bad about it. He was the Destroyer. A kami of death. Shiva. Thanatos. Azrael. Abaddon. He was Zero, come fully into himself.</p>
<p>But who was the father of angels? Galvanized, Wily shouted anew, "You can't do this, you rotten ingrate! I made you, I gave you life, you owe me!"</p>
<p>"Not anymore I don't," Zero replied. He pushed forward remorselessly, his endpoint certain.</p>
<p>"You spoiled child, you have no idea how good you have it! I poured my life into you. I gave you everything that you are. I made you so I would never fear losing you. I gave you immortality, a gift others could only dream of, and this is how you show me your thanks?"</p>
<p>Zero said nothing. He pushed forward. With a shudder the beam saber slipped further, into the gap between the inner and outer shells. Almost there, now.</p>
<p>"Look at you!" Wily said desperately. "Look how I made you! Doesn't that mean anything? Doesn't that count? I made you beautiful- I gave you an image better than man's. I built your heart myself, and your eyes... I gave you power, and the sense to never hesitate to use it- oh!"</p>
<p>The saber was through the tungsten carbide and melting into the metal skin of the S-core itself. Wily grabbed at his holographic hair and tugged. "Argh! I gave you hands- that gorgeous face- that hair! Zero, <em>I gave you hair</em>!"</p>
<p>Zero looked up from the saber and met Wily's gaze. "But this feeling in my heart," he said, "you did not put there."</p>
<p>The saber slipped inward with a final thunk.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Gather everyone who can walk in the ready bay. The standard teams should stay together. Make new teams out of everyone else. We'll need..." X mouthed something indistinct, "...ten-Maverick groupings. You three-" he pointed at some of the reploids in the control center, "-will organize the new groups."</p>
<p>Noise began to spring up, so X raised his voice to be heard over it. "I want new copies of the teleport patch made. We need one for every one of our Mavericks. As soon as they're made, get them down to the ready bay and start handing them out."</p>
<p>As reploids bent to comply, X went to the map table. He tapped at the map table's console. The map zoomed out, out, out. Stein could see the outline of Abel City's territory, then the outline of the continent, then the shape of the whole planet. X's fingers rapped out a fast rhythm. "What are you doing?" Stein had to ask.</p>
<p>"Giving us a place to run to," X answered. "Or rather, places." Across the planet, eight lights appeared. One was blinking. The others were steady red. They were spaced out across the continents. A table appeared on the side of the map. Eight coordinate sets appeared. "These places are safe. They're other family sanctuaries, just like this one. We'll bring the reploids to these places."</p>
<p>"Bring the reploids...?" Stein said. He heard the words, but they had no meaning.</p>
<p>X looked apologetic. "I didn't explain. Sorry. Sigma's attack is going to make City Hall initiate genocide against reploids. There are three ways to stop a genocide. The first way is to fight back. I don't think I need to say it, but that would be disaster. We're badly outnumbered, so we'd probably lose, and either way the loss of life would be..." he shook his head. "The second way is to convince them to stop. We don't have time for that. That leaves the third way: don't be there to be killed."</p>
<p>Stein looked at the map, and the copies of the teleport client that were being burned around the command center, and it came together. "We're teleporting out the whole reploid population?"</p>
<p>"Every single one we can reach," X said. "It's not a solution, it's just a way to play for time, but it's all we can do for now."</p>
<p>So dumbfounded was Stein that he didn't notice the lights on the map table turning green one-by-one. X looked to another reploid in the command center. "Get down to Counseling. I need Aleph and Zed up here."</p>
<p>"What for?" the reploid asked with surprise. Stein didn't blame him. What good were those two? They were known to have processor damage. What could they possibly do?</p>
<p>"I need them to stop the spread of contagion," X replied. "If I've done my job right for once, we should also get some more help out of it. But only Aleph and Zed can do it."</p>
<p>The reploid headed off. With him gone, and X refocused, Stein's mind reengaged for the first time. "We're not going to have satellite coverage of all of that," he said. "We need to import that model... here." He reached to the console and brought up the footprint of the satellites. "That's what I was afraid of. This location is outside of our reach."</p>
<p>X's expression became tight. "Alright. We'll need to reapportion the destinations, then. Get on that."</p>
<p>"Yes, Commander," Stein said. It came naturally, more naturally than he would have expected. It was like it was supposed to have been this way all along.</p>
<p>X gave him a tight smile before turning. Stein started making radio calls, but he kept his ears open. When Aleph and Zed entered the command center, they drew his attention.</p>
<p>The two damaged reploids approached X. Aleph's face was grim; Zed's was full of awe, as if the command center was a wondrous place. When X spoke, their heads snapped in his direction.</p>
<p>"I need you to go. It's scenario cee. You have those messages still, right?"</p>
<p>The two damaged reploids nodded.</p>
<p>"Good," X continued. "But we don't have time for you to get there the normal way. Here." X brought up his hands. In each was a disk. "It's the teleportation client. It'll let you get to your usual rendezvous points instantly."</p>
<p>At that, Aleph shied away, as if X's hands held something disgusting. Zed's eyes widened, and his chest started to heave in simulated hyper-ventilation. X looked to Aleph first. "It's okay, Aleph," he said. "I've used it myself. It's fine. There's nothing to worry about."</p>
<p>Reluctantly, Aleph reached a hand forward, and then snatched the disk away quickly. He shot X a dirty look. "Thank you," X said. "I know it's hard for you. I'm glad you'll do this for me."</p>
<p>Aleph nodded unhappily before inserting the disc. A few seconds later, he was gone.</p>
<p>X turned his attention to Zed, who hadn't gotten any better. "It's okay," X said soothingly. He stepped forward in slow, predictable motions, arms spread wide to embrace the large yet unsteady reploid. "It's okay. I know. I know."</p>
<p>His arms draped themselves around Zed. The reploid trembled beneath him. What came next was an almost inaudible whisper. "It's hard, I understand. But you know what? This is what he would want."</p>
<p>Stein didn't know what 'he' X could possibly be referring to. Zed appeared to, because he looked up. His face was incredulous, questioning. "Believe me," X said. "I never met him, I know, but I know what kind of person he must have been. I know because I've watched you. He must have been the sort of person who does things for others."</p>
<p>Zed's eyes widened. X pressed on. "I know, I know," he said. "I know you still haven't forgiven yourself. But I'll tell you this- there's a reason you're still alive. That's what he wanted. Now you have the chance- if you do this, it'll all be forgiven. Yes, yes," he said, when Zed shook his head. "Trust me! This is what he'd want. He'd want you to do this. This will pay all the debts. This will make it so none of it was in vain. Now's the time, Zed. This is your time."</p>
<p>Determination crept on to Zed's face, but then it vanished. He tapped at where his disk drive was. His lips pursed, and opened. He repeated the motion.</p>
<p>"What is it?" X said.</p>
<p>Another cycle of pursing. On the fourth one, he managed to get out, "Buh."</p>
<p>Comprehension came over X. He nodded. "You broke the drive again, didn't you?" Zed stared at the ground in shame. "It's alright," X said. "It won't take me long to fix it. Will you let me?"</p>
<p>Zed nodded vigorously.</p>
<p>"Thank you," X said. "This will only take a minute."</p>
<p>Stein averted his eyes with a rush of shame. X had been whispering the whole time he'd talked to Zed because, even in as public a place as this, what he'd been saying was private, somehow. It had to be related to the damage Zed had taken. That was something X was trying not to advertise.</p>
<p>He'd always been like that, Stein realized. Stein hadn't been here for very long, but he'd noticed that X never talked about one reploid's problems with another. And here X was, talking about them in public.</p>
<p>And here Stein was, listening.</p>
<p>Maybe his shame hadn't been that he'd heard. His real embarrassment was that he'd tried to hear, when clearly that wasn't what X had wanted. He'd only been so public because they were so tight on time.</p>
<p>And if they were that tight on time, then Stein really ought to get back to work.</p>
<p>Flushing, the reploid threw himself into the coordination task. So focused was he, so determined to make up for his earlier mistake, that he didn't even notice when Zed teleported out.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Form lines, form lines, ten lines! Ten!"</p>
<p>This was a ruckus unlike anything Maverick community housing had seen. When the Maverick Medic came, they were much more orderly, out of respect and a desperate need for his time to be well-spent. When the Hunters came, they typically moved swiftly and without interference. Everyone stayed out of their way so as not to give the executioners any excuses.</p>
<p>These Mavericks, on the other hand, were stirring up as much attention as possible. There were eleven of them. How they'd gotten there was a mystery, yet there they were, fanning out in the lowest floor of the building.</p>
<p>One of them had a megaphone and was roaring out over the growing ruckus. "We come with news from the Maverick Medic, the Father of All. Be not afraid! We come with gifts! We are going to a place beyond the Hunters' reach. Their power will soon be broken. Trust us now, have faith in our Father, X! The discs we bring have the secret to salvation! Form lines to receive it. As soon as you finish the patch, give the disc back to the closest Maverick. He'll give you coordinates to use what you've been given."</p>
<p>The invocation of X worked. The boldest reploids in the block were soon in lines, whilst most of the rest held back. One of the reploids finished the download and ejected the disc. "No way," he said. "Are you serious?"</p>
<p>"I know it seems impossible," the Maverick leader said over the megaphone. "But this is how we got here! This is a power City Hall can't stop! This is the Maverick Medic's gift to us! Use it!"</p>
<p>The first reploid nodded- and vanished in a blaze of light.</p>
<p>"He's the first," shouted the megaphone-wielder. "Will he be the last?"</p>
<p>The rush of reploids clamoring for the discs answered that question. It became obvious that ten discs weren't enough at all.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"There's the next wave," said Mogg. "Alright, alright, I need all y'all to take three steps forward. Shake a leg!"</p>
<p>Many of the newly-arrived, extremely-disoriented Mavericks complied, but one chatterbox had to talk instead. "What is this place?"</p>
<p>There's always one, thought Mogg. "It's called a swamp, it's on another continent, and get offa that spot!"</p>
<p>The reploid hastened to obey. "There we go," Mogg said. "Ya don't wanna be there when the next group touches down. That'd be a mess, an' we're doing everything we can to keep ya from becoming scrap." He watched as the whole group of reploids started to approach. Good. He projected his voice to reassure them.</p>
<p>"Listen up! We're safe here. Over there-" he pointed to where something like a manhole cover was open, "-is the entrance to a safe spot. Head on over. There's power down there, an' a place to rest." There wouldn't be for long, not with as many reploids as would end up here- they'd need to recharge in shifts- but for now, best to stuff as many in there as possible.</p>
<p>"Think of it as a new home," Mogg said when they still hesitated. "Welcome home, fellas!"</p>
<p>(If Roll still had a face, she would have blushed. She was out of excuses this time. There was no way to pass off starting up the hideouts' fusion generators as simple system maintenance. Well, forget that. She was helping family, and no rules were important enough to keep her from that. If Dr. Light hadn't wanted her to freelance, he should've stuck with something simpler than her. But he'd chosen to use her, and she'd decided now was the time for breaking rules.)</p>
<p>Even before Mogg had gotten them headed for the entrance, another set of reploids was touching down behind him. Another Maverick ordered them off to clear the arrival spots, and so it went.</p>
<p>We're gonna need a bigger base, Mogg thought.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It was a good speech, Luke thought as he watched his own image. It had been recorded ahead of time, just in case he ever needed it. He was glad he'd taken that precaution. Among his other precautions. There'd been a whole web of contingency plans. The bills to create the post of Citizen Protector, the declarations of emergency rule, the blackmail threats, the power grabs- all of those had been in place in advance, in the event he needed to seize power on the fly and time was critical. To an outsider, it probably looked like magic. Luke had seen enough magic shows to know better. Magic was ten percent sleight of hand, thirty percent showmanship, and fifty percent preparation.</p>
<p>Wait a minute... ten, thirty, fifty? That didn't add up. Oh, who cared, that wasn't the point. The point was that simply being prepared let Luke pull off things other people couldn't imagine. Like Sean. That 'friend' was in for a nasty surprise. No one got away with betraying Luke Parker.</p>
<p>Sean had underestimated hate. He seemed to think that reploids would be able to put up a fight. Ha! The reason the Mavericks had survived for so long was because City Hall hadn't been fighting with both hands. It had taken precautions, however cursory they might have been, to exterminate only disloyal reploids. Now that City Hall's forces were weapons-free, now that every reploid was an enemy, this could be resolved quickly.</p>
<p>The only complication was how to deal with the Hunters. In a world with no reploids, there were no Mavericks, and without Mavericks, who needed Maverick Hunters? On the plus side, Luke knew, they were children. No, they were <em>babies</em>. It wouldn't be hard to put them in compromising positions once they'd done their jobs. Some of them wouldn't resist- if the training goons were any good- and the others would be ambushed and put down.</p>
<p>Once his city had been purified by fire, he'd be ready to meet whatever Sean's new allies threw at him. Their offensive would fail, and then they would turn on Sean. Traitors were kept around only as long as they were useful. If Sean wasn't useful anymore, well...</p>
<p>"What the fuck?"</p>
<p>The words were out of his mouth almost before he registered what he saw. The looping video of his image had been replaced with a young but serious visage. Come on, if he was trying to be taken seriously he should at least comb his hair. What kind of...</p>
<p>"Some of you know me as the Father of All Reploids," the picture said. "Others of you know me as the Maverick Medic. A few of you know me by my name. This message is to everyone, whether you know me or not.</p>
<p>"I... am X Light."</p>
<p>Luke frowned. X Light? Oh... oh! The prototype! The robot that had been found, that had started this whole fiasco. What did he think he was doing?</p>
<p>"I have taken command of the Mavericks," X continued. "What has happened tonight was tragic and unnecessary. I have put a stop to it. That kind of violence serves no purpose, and it will not happen again. I have withdrawn all Mavericks from the city. To everyone who was hurt tonight, I am deeply sorry."</p>
<p>His face projected that idea. He was a good actor, Luke decided. That opinion was confirmed when X's face hardened. "Don't misunderstand me," X said. "I'm fully aware that your leaders have misled you. I know they want to kill us all. They have given us a choice: die or let die. I won't play that game. I won't allow that to happen. I will act to protect reploids- but not, maybe, in the way you'd expect. I want to break the cycle of violence for good. That means I need to be the first to act.</p>
<p>"This is what I will do. I will withdraw all reploids, just as I've withdrawn all Mavericks. By the time dawn comes, the entire reploid population of Abel City will be gone. I don't think you'll like how the city works without us."</p>
<p>X clasped his hands beneath his face. "Reploids, humans- we can do so much together. We <em>will</em> do so much together. But not tonight. Tonight we need to see how much we need each other. We need to learn not to hurt each other. We need to learn how to live and let live. You'll see. Tomorrow is a new day- a new chance- a new start."</p>
<p>He seemed both sad and determined. "I didn't do enough when reploids were first created. Starting tonight, I rectify that mistake. Part of my problem was I didn't understand how much you humans have been oppressed. Oh, yes- City Hall is hurting you, too. You have no voice. You have no say. You're slaves to the corps and dolls to your rulers. I suppose it wasn't a stretch for City Hall to treat reploids as machines. They already treated humans like machines.</p>
<p>"No more. That, too, is despicable. That, too, will end. It will end because you want it to end. It will end because <em>I</em> want it to end. And I will fight for you, because... I love you all."</p>
<p>The shot remained for almost three seconds- an eternity in a speech!- before it cut out. The looped video of Luke's speech returned, and at a point that generated maximum contrast. It was right when he was rolling into the "righteous hatred" part of the speech. Damn, and he'd thought that part was so clever! He wondered if the Mavericks had done that deliberately.</p>
<p>Oh, he was good, this X. It wouldn't work, his claims were ridiculous, but Luke had to acknowledge the quality of his foe. Where had he been, all this time? If this really was X Light, why was he only now coming into the open?</p>
<p>Luke decided he didn't care. Pretty words were nice, sure, but pretty words on their own didn't do anything. They didn't save Athens from losing the Peloponnesian War, they only mattered at Gettysburg because that side won and it wasn't the words that did that, it was the two-to-one manpower advantage and vast industrial edge... no, words wouldn't matter.</p>
<p>It was a funny thing for Luke to think, given that words were his primary tools. Still, he'd leveraged his words to develop other forms of power. In this case, the "other form" was a tidal wave of a couple hundred thousand angry, armed humans.</p>
<p>Luke grabbed a phone and dialed to the temporary relay station set up in the bunker. "Sir!" came the answer from the flunkies above. "We were just about to call you. The militia is requesting instructions."</p>
<p>"Nothing has changed," Luke said. "Continue mobilizing the militia. Keep them headed for reploid community housing. We will exterminate those soulless monstrosities!"</p>
<p>"Yes, sir," was the reply. Was it Luke's imagination, or was it less than enthusiastic?</p>
<p>"Get on it," he barked, and hung up.</p>
<hr/>
<p>X was about to reenter the command center when Alia called out to him. He turned. "You're supposed to be in medical," he said sternly.</p>
<p>"Funny thing," she replied, "there's no one else in medical for me to treat."</p>
<p>X stared at her. "There were at least a dozen injured Mavericks there," he said.</p>
<p>"None of them were in critical condition- not after you got through with them," she said, "so they all volunteered to go back out and help the evacuation."</p>
<p>"And you let them?" X said, aghast.</p>
<p>"The patient has some rights, doesn't she?" Alia retorted.</p>
<p>"Half of them couldn't walk!"</p>
<p>"As it turns out, you don't need to walk a whole lot when you can teleport. It's such a cheat."</p>
<p>"Rupert couldn't even stand!"</p>
<p>"He told me that's what walls are for. Listen, X," she said, "there was no more good for me to do there, and you need every body you can get. Don't object to gifts."</p>
<p>X gave her a look that clearly asked why she was being so difficult, but there was no counter-argument that would be of any use, so whatever, just don't expect me to be happy about it. His mouth was open to speak when a third voice called for him. "Zero," he said, surprised.</p>
<p>"Did I miss anything?" the red robot asked.</p>
<p>X looked to the ceiling. "I don't even know how to... actually, I do. I was about to get an update anyway. Come with me." He opened the door and the three of them walked into the command center together.</p>
<p>Stein saw their entrance and broke away from the pack- which was a lot thinner than it had been- to come to them. "Commander," Stein said, and it didn't even faze X this time, "things are going... as well as we could have hoped. Every team is deployed and handing out discs. We made some extras to speed up the process, so that's not the bottleneck anymore. The bottleneck is coordinate space."</p>
<p>X nodded. Every member of each team had one coordinate set they were allowed to send evacuees to. For safety, they were spacing the teleports by five seconds a piece. Considering the danger, that was still a breakneck pace. If they didn't control where the reploids were rematerializing, well, Wily himself had said the results would not be pretty.</p>
<p>"And they're maintaining that pace?" It was a brutal timetable they were on, with little room to wiggle. Five seconds per coordinate set with ten coordinate sets per team sounded good, until you considered that each team had to evacuate on the order of ten thousand reploids. Just too many bodies to bring them in safely... There had to be some way to speed that up.</p>
<p>"As it turns out, the timeline is even shorter than we'd thought," Stein said, as if hearing X's thoughts. "We only have thirty minutes of satellite time left. When that bird goes over the horizon, it'll be two hours before the next one comes around."</p>
<p>Anything, X knew, could happen in two hours. Given the circumstances, something unimaginably gruesome probably would.</p>
<p>"And... there's another problem," Stein said. X could hear the reluctance in that voice.</p>
<p>So could Zero, because it was his impatient answer of "What?" that reached the staff reploid first.</p>
<p>Stein grimaced. "We didn't have enough bodies to get to one block."</p>
<p>X blinked. "We're not evacuating a whole block?" Ten thousand-odd lives, left to the tender mercies of Abel City?</p>
<p>"We're completely out of bodies," Stein said apologetically. "We ended up... redirecting the others away. With that half-hour timetable, we thought, well, maybe we can completely evacuate some of the blocks if we give up the one... It's not a good choice, but we don't have any good choices when we're this strapped for resources. Alia even gave us the wounded to use and we still couldn't stretch enough."</p>
<p>The problem was too immediate for X to convey his irritation to Alia. They'd talk later about the definition of "volunteered". Argh, what to do? It was certain that any reploids left behind were going to die, and that would also spoil the message he'd tried to make in his speech. If his proposed/implied truce was undone by massacre, what good were his promises? What would follow next, then?</p>
<p>He knew the answer to that question.</p>
<p>What could he do? Joining a team would give them another set of coordinates, allow them to evacuate twelve more reploids per minute out of a population that made a mockery of that... No. Too small. He was X. He could do more than that.</p>
<p>Oh. It was obvious.</p>
<p>"Which block is the one we can't evacuate?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Double-you four," Stein replied. "That's the worst part. That's where the Longinus branch exists. They've been our best in-city Mavericks, no competition. To think we couldn't get them out," he added with a bitter laugh.</p>
<p>"I'll go there," X said.</p>
<p>"Commander?" Stein replied, startled.</p>
<p>"Yes," X said. "I'll go there." He couldn't see the whole future, not any more than before, but he could see the next step, could see snippets. Evacuating the other blocks was important, no, vital, and that needed to continue. That wasn't X's limit, though. X's role was bigger. He needed to find the most hopeless spot, the most forlorn- because that was where he could make the biggest difference. The future would swing on what happened in W-4, so that's where he needed to be.</p>
<p>Was this what destiny sounded like? Or was he being too melodramatic? He couldn't say for sure, he didn't know how this was going to end. All he was sure of was that he'd only find out by going.</p>
<p>He glanced at Zero. The warbot's face was approving. Good. "I assume you're coming too, Zero?"</p>
<p>"Of course," Zero replied.</p>
<p>"And me," Alia said, jumping in.</p>
<p>"Sure," said X, with an overtone of 'like I could stop you'. "Stein, figure out a way to speed up the evacuation of the other blocks. I'm going to make my stand at double-you four."</p>
<p>"Sir."</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: Broken Wheel</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Broken Wheel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The magrifle was heavy in Roy's hands. Apparently the busters were heavier, if Allen's grunts were any indication. Still, some nagging part of Roy's head would have preferred the buster. It might have been his imagination, but it seemed like only the militiamen in uniform got busters, and everyone else got the magrifles. It was only a vague feeling, though, and Roy was too busy trying not to get trampled to worry about it.</p>
<p>He heard a horn honking behind him. He wanted to look behind, but the crowd wouldn't permit it. He kept shuffling along. When the horn honked again, Roy discovered that some of the pressure of the crowd was dissipating. He was able to turn and stop and try to look at what was making the ruckus.</p>
<p>It was a squad car in ACPD colors, even though the guys driving it were all in militia uniforms. The car was (very slowly) forcing its way through the crowd, while one of the militiamen hung out the side, hollering "Stop! Stop!" at the top of his lungs. The crowd was stopping, in the slow, inelegant manner that a freight train stops, with the additional complication of the brakes being applied from the back rather than the front.</p>
<p>And now there was more honking from in front. Roy looked in that direction. This car had no official paintjob. He wondered if the militia hadn't gotten around to that, yet, or if they'd just commandeered it that night. The crowd oozed around like an amoeba as the two cars pushed their way towards each other, honking frantically and ineffectually.</p>
<p>The two cars met about five meters from Roy. He was close enough to tell that the two cars' occupants were having a heated, visceral argument, but not close enough to hear what they were arguing about. There was lots of gesticulating, too. Hands were being held up and turned and pointed and curved. It reminded Roy of mimes.</p>
<p>Someone must have won the argument, because the second car threw it in reverse and started heading back towards the front of the column. That was terrifying- Roy understood that there was no room to turn around, but driving in reverse? Most Abel City drivers were hell on wheels driving forwards, when they could see where they were going.</p>
<p>The winners of the argument turned towards the crowd. "We're gonna turn," hollered the loudmouth. "Turn that way! March that way!" He was pointing down a street perpendicular to the one they were on. "Congratulations," he said, marginally more quietly, as he looked in the direction of Roy and Allen. "You boys are at the head of the line now!"</p>
<p>"Great," Allen said darkly. "I can't wait to use this." He patted the buster conspicuously. As if he could have meant anything else by that remark.</p>
<p>Roy wasn't thinking about that. He was laughing over what the argument must have meant. The militia's leaders had been herding thousands of people and they'd gotten lost in their own city. That was a joke.</p>
<p>Where were they, anyway? As the crowd lurched into motion again (with Allen striding ahead a bit to set the pace), Roy tried to catch a glimpse of street signs. There it was. In that case... he checked his mental map. Alright, they were in W-3. They had been headed north, towards V-3, but now they had turned them east. They'd be in W-4 in a few blocks.</p>
<p>Was their destination there? Who knew?</p>
<p>Roy hoped they'd tell him. Then again, he reflected, if they were going to kill the reploids, he'd probably know when they got there. He'd see for himself.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Zero wasn't sure what, exactly, he was expecting to see when he rematerialized. At first he was disappointed when he followed X's gaze. They were going <em>there</em> to make their stand? Those buildings were totally indefensible. They had no openings, no vantage points, that could be used to return fire. They were little more than places to hide. A building like that was a death trap: it looked solid until the big guns connected, and then it was almost worse than nothing.</p>
<p>Closer scrutiny was more reassuring. The work around the bottom was new and, to his mind, combat-oriented. Better.</p>
<p>X wasn't paying attention to such things, Zero expected. Or maybe he was, but at a lower level. X was too busy walking towards the buildings to be assessing them actively. Alia was to his right and slightly behind. Zero swept his vision across all angles, to ensure nothing bad was immediately going to happen, before following.</p>
<p>The clamor began before they even got to the wall. "It's X!"</p>
<p>"You're popular these days," Alia quipped.</p>
<p>"A natural consequence of the plan," X allowed, but he didn't sound happy about it.</p>
<p>"I didn't recognize you when we met," Alia said. "That wasn't too long ago."</p>
<p>"Don't call it progress," X said.</p>
<p>"Why not? You said yourself it was part of the plan."</p>
<p>X didn't have an answer to that, and the window to reply soon closed. They were near to the wall, which revealed itself to be a gate when it opened for them. Zero registered dozens- no, hundreds of reploids inside. None of them were moving much. Zero peered closely to determine why. Were they damaged? Were they massing for attack? No. They were staring. They were looking at X, focusing on him, as if it would be regrettable to miss anything he said or did.</p>
<p>Zero recognized this instantly. It was power.</p>
<p>"Who's in charge?" X asked.</p>
<p>Zero had to untangle things when everyone spoke at once, but it seemed "Longinus," was the consensus answer.</p>
<p>"I wouldn't want to hold you up," X said. "One of you take us to this... Longinus. The rest of you, go back to what you were doing."</p>
<p>Okay, maybe not absolute power. No one seemed particularly interested in listening to X if it meant letting him out of their sights. It made Zero uncomfortable. That many eyes looking at him was that many targeting systems that could already be engaged and Zero wouldn't know it. Most of them were barely- or not-at-all armed, true, but everything counts in large amounts. For a moment he was relieved that they were focusing on X and not him, since X was the one who could deal with these things. Then he felt much worse because if this did get messy X wouldn't be expecting it.</p>
<p>Zero followed closely behind X just in case.</p>
<p>As they passed through what was clearly a missing wall, Zero's clever eyes noted that it was disassembled rather than destroyed. Too neat, no rubble. That was probably one source of the gate's material, then. Inside the space created by the missing wall was a cluster of bodies. Three reploids and four humans, and one member of each group grievously wounded. Good, two fewer threats to X.</p>
<p>Ack, X wouldn't like that he was thinking that way. He really needed, eventually, to find a way to disengage tactical, or at least mute it. X's tactical subroutines didn't always have system priority. It was probably a lot easier to be a nice person that way. Zero was a little bit jealous. When he realized it, he wanted to smile- wouldn't that thought drive Serges crazy!</p>
<p>If he were still alive, of course. Why was he thinking about Serges, anyway? Tactical complained that thinking about a dead unit was wasting valuable processor time that could be spent targeting all the live units around him.</p>
<p>Then again, Serges had mattered to more than Zero's tactical. Just like X mattered to more than tactical. Okay, maybe not <em>just</em> like that.</p>
<p>Zero's head hurt.</p>
<p>"You're wounded," X said. "Alia, would you mind giving first aid?"</p>
<p>"Not at all," she said, and walked for the wounded reploid.</p>
<p>The hurt human grimaced. "I don't suppose you know any human medicine."</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," X said.</p>
<p>"My knowledge of human anatomy is very... specific," Alia added as she knelt by the reploid. "That's not the kind of problem I could help you with."</p>
<p>"Alia," X said, almost embarrassed.</p>
<p>"Just being truthful," she replied. "I'm processing things my own way, just like you told me to."</p>
<p>X looked away from the likeflesh-clad reploid. "We're here to help," X said. "It looks like you've been digging in."</p>
<p>Nods all around. "Not that we really expected to survive," one of the humans said. "We have barely any weapons, and we can't dictate the range. Mostly we expected to be shot a lot, and then maybe jump a few of them when they came in to mop us up."</p>
<p>"Longinus," another protested. "Will you stop talking like that?" The human (Zero wasn't keen on how to tell them apart) looked up at X. "He's trying to give excuses for why he can't go to the hospital."</p>
<p>"Okay, fine," he said, and even with an injured belly the lying-down human had energy in his voice. "You want a reason? Because Maverick is what I am. I'll be damned if I hide that any longer. I'm going Patrick Henry on you." He looked around. Silence was his only answer, to which Zero contributed. "Come on, nothing?"</p>
<p>"Liberty or death," X said.</p>
<p>"Thank you!" said the wounded human. "At least <em>someone</em> gets it."</p>
<p>A green-skinned, also-wounded reploid gave the human a meaningful look. "You knew you'd be killed at once if you were outed," he said. "You've known that for so long that now you actually want to die, just to get it over with."</p>
<p>"Will all of you stop trying to psychoanalyze me? Christ, Goddess is the only one who has the training to do that, and I'm ignoring her because I know those tricks, too."</p>
<p>"Everything is different now, though," said an uninjured human who looked, to Zero, more like X than Alia. (Alia was an outlier in construction, so that made her a useful touchpoint for Zero.) "Because X is here, right Longinus?"</p>
<p>The one they called Longinus snorted. "Yeah, no pressure, X," he said.</p>
<p>"Now I know I was right in coming here," X said, and for some reason he was smiling. "Even if we could have gotten a team here, we wouldn't have been able to evacuate everyone. That means this is where I need to be."</p>
<p>"Can you fight?" said the green-skin.</p>
<p>Zero snorted. Couldn't he see? It was obvious. In Zero's mind, asking if X could fight was like asking if water was wet. It was an inherent quality. Now that X had decided he actually would...</p>
<p>"I have a different plan."</p>
<p>...what?</p>
<p>"Hold on," said the injured human. "If we're not evacuating, and we're not fighting, what are we doing?"</p>
<p>"We still might fight," X allowed. "But first..." He turned to look at Zero. "Time for a mission. Odds of success are low, injury and death are almost certain. You in?"</p>
<p>For a moment, tactical tried to override, noting that Zero didn't have his spare bodies any more. He was mortal. Playing fast and loose with his life was a good way to lose it- for good.</p>
<p>X's expression made tactical shut up, maybe for the first time. "Of course," Zero said.</p>
<p>"Come with me," he said, and started walking out. "We need to figure out some coordinates." As Zero followed, X looked back and smiled. "You have no idea how happy it made me to see that," he said.</p>
<p>"What?" said Zero, who hadn't seen much utility in that conversation at all.</p>
<p>"'Suppose there were fifty righteous within the city'," X said. He was clearly quoting something, but Zero had no idea what. "'Would you also destroy the place and not spare it for the fifty righteous that were in it?' So the Lord said, 'If I find in Sodom fifty righteous within the city, then I will spare all the place for their sakes.' Then he said, 'Let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak but once more: Suppose ten should be found there?' And He said, 'I will not destroy it for the sake of ten.'"</p>
<p>It had to have some meaning, whatever it was, or X wouldn't have bothered. Zero's brow furrowed in concentration. "You were going to destroy Abel City?" he said.</p>
<p>"No," X said. The way he distanced himself from that- urgently, clearly- meant that Zero had gotten it all wrong. Not that X was helping him out much. He was using reference when talking to a warbot with memory damage. It couldn't go anywhere other than over Zero's head.</p>
<p>Zero wished he could be a person X could speak to freely. Maybe he needed a century of hibernation.</p>
<p>"There, I see humans and reploids together," X said, motioning over his shoulder. "Working and fighting together for something that's right. I'd been holding out hope, of course- my goal all along has been to preserve the possibility that that could happen. I had precious few examples. So few times to see it for myself. But now, that?" He jerked a thumb in that direction. "That is worth fighting for. And it pays for all."</p>
<p>Zero reached for his saber before he remembered. "You said we weren't fighting."</p>
<p>"Not unless we have to. I want to try something else. On my cue, teleport to these coordinates."</p>
<p>Zero's head cocked to the side as he received the coordinates. "Really?"</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>"What for?"</p>
<p>X smiled.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The crowd lurched and bumbled and stumbled to a halt. Nothing it did was elegant.</p>
<p>"There it is!"</p>
<p>Roy didn't know who said that- didn't know if it was one of the militiamen who was supposedly in charge or just a member of the mob. The crowd had been moving much slower, lately. Something had changed.</p>
<p>That robot's speech...</p>
<p>He'd heard more of it than of Luke Parker's speech, somehow, even though Parker's speech had been going continuously and they'd only seen the robot's once. Or was it that the robot's speech stuck in his head more?</p>
<p>It had sounded so different. Not bitter or caustic, like the poster-putter reploid had been (and Roy hadn't blamed him at all for being like that). Not hateful and furious, like Parker. He really sounded like... like...</p>
<p>There was no basis for comparison, was there?</p>
<p>He sure didn't sound much like the monsters from mom's stories, that was for certain. He couldn't be more different from the shielded one, for example. And he sure didn't seem like he was a goo fiend.</p>
<p>Not that his words had stopped the crowd. Too much momentum- whenever Roy slowed down, even a little, Allen pressed against him and forced him forward.</p>
<p>Until now. Now, they stopped. Directly in front of them were three large buildings angled together. They were inside of a fence, except for one part which had been torn down. The fence didn't look like anything special. They could walk around it, or shoot through it, or whatever.</p>
<p>No one seemed to know what to do. They'd gotten here, now what?</p>
<p>Several of the militiamen pushed their way to the front. One of them started shouting. Even standing near the crest of the crowd, Roy could barely hear what was being said. The words sounded a lot more like Parker's than the robot's. The tone was the same, if nothing else.</p>
<p>Okay, so, shouting... what did that mean?</p>
<p>The militiamen raised their weapons in the air and shouted. That probably meant 'violence'. So, still killing the reploids, then?</p>
<p>It occurred to Roy that he'd never actually fired a weapon outside of a video game. And he sucked at first-person shooters.</p>
<p>Allen hadn't, though. That didn't meant he could fire a real gun, but at least-</p>
<p>Roy looked back at Allen. His friend's eyes were wide, and he was breathing entirely too quickly. "Lemme at 'em," he said. "Lemme at 'em."</p>
<p>"Dude," Roy said.</p>
<p>"They killed Irving," Allen hissed, as if pissed off Roy didn't understand. "Fuck 'em. I'll fucking kill 'em all!"</p>
<p>Before Roy could say anything- and what could he have said to that?- the crowd started moving, and Allen moved with it. Or had Allen started moving and the crowd followed? Roy didn't know, couldn't tell, and who really cared, they were moving and that's what mattered.</p>
<p>Closer and closer to the home of the reploids.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"They're coming," Douglas said.</p>
<p>"I can see," Longinus said, and his voice was mostly empty. The meeting with X had taken a lot out of him. It didn't matter in the end. He knew he was going to die. He was touched they were trying to save him, he really was, but they didn't understand at all, did they? He was dead no matter what. This way he got to say he was dying on principle, instead of just because the hospitals were swamped.</p>
<p>Three of the monitors showed the crowd approaching. It was so large- well, there was no telling how large it was. No way even to estimate. Who could say how many more were out of sight around corners or behind buildings? This was Abel City at its best. Or, if not its best, then close enough to make no difference.</p>
<p>Longinus looked up at one of his minders. "Spread the word," he said. "Everyone to their stations. It's time to fight."</p>
<p>Paladin frowned, but when he spoke, it was to the group at large. "That's not what X said he would do. What do you suppose his plan is?"</p>
<p>"He didn't say."</p>
<p>"I'm not sure he even has a plan," Goddess said.</p>
<p>"Goddess!" said Douglas, and his face showed that he couldn't believe what she'd just said. "You can't mean you doubt him!"</p>
<p>Goddess shrugged. "Sorry, he's not my father. I just don't know what he could be... doing..." She frowned, squinted at the screens. "Is that him?"</p>
<p>Everyone looked more closely. Yes- there was a speck of blue, with another speck of red next to it, standing between the multitude and the reploid perimeter.</p>
<p>"It is," confirmed Paladin. "That's X and Zero. They must have teleported down there. What are they doing?"</p>
<hr/>
<p>"What are we doing?" Zero asked.</p>
<p>"Just keep your hands up," X said. He was facing the oncoming crowd. His hands were raised to the sides like he was a link in a one-robot chain.</p>
<p>"What are we doing?" Zero repeated even as he obeyed.</p>
<p>"I don't know exactly," X said. "I'll know in a minute."</p>
<p>"A minute?" Zero said. He quickly did the math. "That'll be long after-"</p>
<hr/>
<p>"X is out there!"</p>
<p>No one knew who said it, but the word spread through reploid community housing like wildfire. Before Longinus or Douglas noticed or could do anything about it, the gates were open, and hundreds of reploids were pouring through to see what X was doing.</p>
<hr/>
<p>X looked over his shoulder when he heard the clamor. "Back to back with me, Zero," he said.</p>
<p>Instantly his companion turned until they were two faces of the coin, hands raised like traffic cops. X faced the humans, Zero faced the reploids. The reploid crowd slowed, but approached all the same. Everyone wanted to see- and that meant they were coming towards the humans, too.</p>
<p>Humans on one side, reploids on the other, pressing closer to each other until the distance was measured in tens of meters.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Stop, stop!" the militiamen were demanding, because what use were guns when you were blundering right into the enemy? But, as ever, the crowd was an unwieldy organization. It had never moved as a unit together, and the command and control of it was sorely missing. It was like driving a boulder.</p>
<p>Slowly it shuddered to a halt, staring down its reploid adversaries across a vanishingly small gap.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"This wasn't supposed to happen, was it?" Zero asked quietly. "But now at least the reploids have a chance- the humans are too close, surely some of them could charge in..."</p>
<p>"That's not what I want, Zero."</p>
<p>"Then what do you want? And how are you going to get it?"</p>
<p>X said nothing.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"I can't watch!" Douglas said. He flipped his welding shades down and covered his face with his hands.</p>
<p>"What's the plan now?" Paladin asked.</p>
<p>Well, what could they do? Goddess visibly thought about it, then shrugged. Longinus sat and bled.</p>
<p>And then Maria stepped in front of Paladin. "Get to your camera and put in these codes." She handed him a slip of paper.</p>
<p>Paladin's eyes widened. "Is this what I think it is?"</p>
<p>"Yes," said Maria. Her face and voice were hard, like she was forcing sternness upon herself. "You were right. This story is bigger than me. Bigger than any of us."</p>
<p>Paladin gawked for only another moment, but then bent over his camera. "Alright, but now I need to get to a good vantage point."</p>
<p>"Don't bother," said Douglas, suddenly able to look. "Hook into my security setup."</p>
<p>Paladin looked up. It seemed like a bunch of spaghetti to him. "Uh... where?"</p>
<p>"Dammit!" Douglas swore (like a human, he noted). "I'd do it myself, but in this condition..."</p>
<p>Alia stepped forward. "I'll be your hands," she said. "Talk me through it."</p>
<p>Douglas was taken aback. "You sure?"</p>
<p>"I'm sure." She smiled. "I had a master training me."</p>
<p>"Well, okay..."</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Now what, X?" Zero said. Tactical was demanding he pick a side to shoot at and start shooting, because that would cut in half the number of people who could shoot at him, and that number was awfully high.</p>
<p>"Wait for it," X said. "I'll know in a minute. This is the right place to be. We just have to wait for the right time."</p>
<p>Zero looked at the restive reploids before him. He detected the armed humans behind him. "Uh..."</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Now what?" Roy asked. They were here, the reploids were in front of them. What were they supposed to do now?</p>
<p>The reploids very clearly weren't attacking them. And there was that robot, the one who made the speech, and he looked so... harmless. So... well, so not-going-to-kill-them. Maybe that speech of his was the real deal.</p>
<p>This is so stupid, Roy thought.</p>
<p>Even as he felt the magrifle weighing down his hands, Allen barreled past him, almost knocking him over.</p>
<p>"You bastards!" Allen shouted, and hefted the buster he'd been given.</p>
<p>"Allen, no!"</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Done," said Alia.</p>
<hr/>
<p>On every television, monitor, and network in Abel City, the image of X and Zero standing between the two groups appeared.</p>
<p>Just in time for a plasma bolt to race out and strike X.</p>
<p>One of the better-known <em>koan</em> in Zen is "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" There is no answer; it's supposed to illustrate the futility of language. It would have been helpful to have an answer, though. The answer would have described the shot that hit X.</p>
<p>History had known, before, of the Shot Heard 'Round the World. This was the Shot the World Never Heard. The Shot Heard 'Round the World touched off a sharp and violent gunfight that escalated into full-fledged warfare. The Shot the World Never Heard led to no immediate reaction, even though many of the same ingredients were there.</p>
<p>The difference was the extra ingredient, in X.</p>
<p>Because instead of seeing the beginning of a war, instead of seeing the reploids surge forward howling in rage or seeing the humans open fire en masse, Abel City instead saw X wrestle Zero to the ground.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"They shot you!" Zero bellowed.</p>
<p>"Stay down," X said, pinning Zero's arms behind him.</p>
<p>"They shot you!" Zero repeated.</p>
<p>"I am aware of it," X said. "Now let me deal with it. My way."</p>
<p>"And what's your way? Do you have a plan?"</p>
<p>"Only if you stay down. I have to do this."</p>
<p>He started to release Zero. Zero immediately tried to whip a hand forward. X reapplied his pin before Zero could aim the shot. "Stay down!" X repeated, in tones brooking no alternative.</p>
<p>"But... he shot you," Zero said, miserable and confused.</p>
<p>"I know. Let me handle it."</p>
<p>X stood, and this time Zero did not react. He watched X from behind, mentally cataloguing the Maverick Medic's wounds. Zero had roughed him up before, and he'd come back from his talk with Sigma hurt more than a little. His self-repair had had a good amount of time to work, true, but not that much.</p>
<p>What was he doing?</p>
<hr/>
<p>"What's he doing?"</p>
<p>"He's... he's walking towards the humans!"</p>
<hr/>
<p>"You bastard!" came the shout again, along with another buster shot. This one struck X in the right shoulder, twisting his torso for a moment. Other than blackening his paint it didn't seem to make much of an impression; X's face contorted in pain and then was back to placid.</p>
<p>Step, step, step.</p>
<p>He knew what he had to do.</p>
<p>He felt all the eyes on him. He felt the focus of a thousand thousand minds, all completely invested in this moment.</p>
<p>He didn't see any of it. He could only see the next step in front of him. The future, lighting up before him, one pace at a time.</p>
<p>And the young man before him at the head of the crowd, an instrument of death raised in his hands.</p>
<p>One shot hit the dirt. Another sailed over X's head. Even a layperson could tell the gunner was panicking.</p>
<p>"Die, you- die!"</p>
<p>The next shot hit X in the abdomen, causing him to curl slightly forward. He regained his balance immediately, smoothed his next step, and continued on. Another shot, this time to the chest, and the shots were gaining accuracy and power as X approached. Heat-based weapons would always have problems with energy dissipation, but the less time and distance they had to travel before connecting, the more dangerous they were.</p>
<p>X was walking forward, closer with every step.</p>
<p>Yet another shot, and yet again X suffered it and moved on, implacable as a glacier.</p>
<p>Another miss, and it nearly struck the reploid crowd behind X. There was a loud murmur at that, but none could act. No one could spoil this moment. X's moment.</p>
<p>The next shot stalled X out. He shook, and had to stop walking for a moment. Zero's tactical was furiously cataloguing every impact and updating his assessment of X's armor. If X was an extension of Zero, if his power was Zero's power, he was... he was...</p>
<p>X resumed walking.</p>
<p>Douglas had long-since covered his eyes. He twisted his head from side to side, unable to watch, unable to not watch. Everything he heard just made his agony that much worse because he had no way to make sense of it.</p>
<p>"Get back!" Allen shouted as X came mere steps away. "Get away from me! GET AWAY!"</p>
<p>This time it was X's forehead that took the hit, right in the crown of the helmet. His head rocked backwards and his whole body arced, and for a heart-stopping moment it seemed that no one could keep their balance like that, he was going to fall. Susan cried out in sheer sympathy. A surge of motion and emotion came over the reploid crowd, like a stampede about to begin.</p>
<p>But X's foot shifted back and caught him, and he regained his balance, and no one else moved or dared to breathe.</p>
<p>"Aaaagh," he said, admitting to the pain, but there was no evidence he would let the pain change him. Instead he stepped forward again, and it was only two more steps before he reached Allen.</p>
<p>The other humans separated away from him, and many of them tightened their grips on their weapons. If he could walk through that kind of fire, what would he do- animal instinct would compel him to hit back-</p>
<p>X reached forward, touched the end of Allen's buster, and pushed down until it was pointed at the ground. Allen's face was twisted in a rictus of horror and fear. X stepped forward, past the buster's muzzle and inside Allen's defenses.</p>
<p>He spoke.</p>
<p>"I forgive you."</p>
<p>The voice was quiet, and yet it carried. Not far enough to reach the cameras, there was no chance of that, so Abel City proper never knew what he said. But it saw what he did next. He took one more step, looped his arms around Allen, and embraced him.</p>
<p>Neither of them moved. No one did, human or reploid or otherwise.</p>
<p>Anything they did would detract.</p>
<p>"I forgive you," X said quietly, this time for Allen alone. "We all forgive you. And apologize, too."</p>
<p>The buster slipped out of Allen's hands. Tears followed.</p>
<p>And all around the two came the sympathetic crack-crack of unused weapons falling to the ground.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"You've got to be kidding me," Luke Parker said. It was as much a wish as a denial.</p>
<p>Where was the mob violence? Where was the carefully cultivated hate? Where were the howls for vengeance for everything that had happened overnight? Why weren't people acting like the animals they were?</p>
<p>He grabbed for the phone. Fine, that X might be there in one place, but it was a big city. He dialed the command center nearby. "Tell me you're exterminating the reploids in the other blocks," he demanded.</p>
<p>"Sir... I don't know how to say this, but... there's nothing there."</p>
<p>"What do you mean, there's nothing there?"</p>
<p>"I don't know, that's just what I'm hearing, sir. Every militia unit that gets to reploid community housing is telling us their block is empty. The only one that made contact was... that one."</p>
<p>He didn't even have to say which one he meant. Son of a <em>bitch</em>!</p>
<p>How could they be gone? They didn't have any way to move bodies like that! It wasn't like they could just-</p>
<p>-disappear.</p>
<p>There were four men in Abel City who had seen that video. One had quit the city. Another was dead and a third was institutionalized. The last was Luke Parker himself. </p>
<p>So only a few humans would have known that teleportation was even possible. Here was the evidence, staring Luke in the face, entirely too late for him to react. That was how they'd destroyed so much of his city in one night, and that was how they'd escaped retribution everywhere but W-4, and then this, this... thing, this... X... had shown up there...</p>
<p>Luke's eyes opened wide and his mouth went dry. This was what it felt like to lose control. This was what it felt like to- to-</p>
<p>He couldn't even think straight. Shock was overwhelming him. Somehow, someway, his control over the city had slipped completely out of his grasp.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"It's the best story I ever did," Maria said unironically. "And I wasn't even in it."</p>
<p>On the monitors, X had finally broken his embrace of the human. Another young man had taken the first back into the crowd. The crowd was receding, now, leaving behind a trail of unused weapons.</p>
<p>"Did that... just happen?" Paladin said. No one knew how to answer him. They just watched. They said nothing as X went back to Zero and helped him up. They said nothing as the two disappeared into the reploid crowd. They said nothing as humans and reploids alike wandered away in a daze, as if no one could be sure why they'd been there in the first place. Even at that time, people's memories were altering what everyone had seen to try and make it make sense, when the truth they'd seen was the most patently ridiculous thing they'd ever experienced.</p>
<p>"Well, Andre," Longinus said, "that's gotta be good enough." He reached to his pocket and withdrew a crooked, damaged cigarette. "Anyone got a light?"</p>
<p>Maria stepped towards him, lighter in hand. Paladin understood why she had one- a social climber always had to be ready to light the smokes of her superiors- but where could it have come from when she was wearing a dress with no pockets?</p>
<p>He decided he didn't want to know.</p>
<p>Longinus puffed on the cigarette to help get it lit, then took a drag. He coughed furiously, and the coughing soon mixed with a moan as it convulsed his abdomen. "You idiot!" Goddess said, but she didn't take it from him.</p>
<p>"It's been a while," Longinus said, voice cracking around it.</p>
<p>"Wait a minute," Douglas said. "Is that... have you been carrying that pack for three years?!"</p>
<p>"Yeah," Longinus said sheepishly.</p>
<p>"So how does it taste?" Maria asked.</p>
<p>Longinus pulled it from his mouth. "Like shit," he said, and laughed. He pointed at the monitors. "It's just as well. Look at that! Verdigris. I suppose now I've gotta live."</p>
<p>He stubbed the cigarette out.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: The Polite Storm</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. The Polite Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You idiot!"</p>
<p>Zero wanted to smack X, but there were an awful lot of reploids around who probably wouldn't take kindly to that gesture, no matter how deserved.</p>
<p>"That's me," X said weakly, replying over the radio just as Zero had spoken to him.</p>
<p>"You're not supposed to claim that," Zero said.</p>
<p>"I know you're upset."</p>
<p>"Upset? Upset? I watched you try your hardest to get yourself killed!"</p>
<p>"No, I was actually trying very hard not to die," X said. "That would have been calamity."</p>
<p>"You're telling me!" Zero said. "Do you know what you almost cost yourself? What you almost cost me?"</p>
<p>"I have an idea," X said.</p>
<p>Zero explained anyway. "You're the second most capable combatant in the Mavericks. You're the Commander, and I have no idea where the chain of command would lead if you died. You're the Maverick Medic- if you died, then many more reploids would die because you wouldn't be there to care for them."</p>
<p>"Now who's thinking small?" It was joking words, but X's tone and face quickly became serious. Tired-serious, but still serious. "I was walking on the razor's edge, there. If I had died, nothing would have held the reploids back. That would have been something they couldn't forgive. They would have attacked, right there, just like you wanted to do. That would have sparked war, and that war wouldn't have stopped until one side or the other was gone. So- genocidal war. And if I'd shot back, then every human there would have opened fire, and bam- genocidal war again."</p>
<p>"So you got yourself shot up instead." It was not an approving voice.</p>
<p>"That was the only way out," X said. "It was the only thing I could think to do. Most of the people in that crowd weren't there by choice. How do you keep that sort of person from attacking? Give them no reason to." He put a hand behind his head. "And hope your armor holds until you can persuade the guy who does want to attack."</p>
<p>"Do you know how close you were to death?" Zero demanded.</p>
<p>"I am aware. Painfully aware." His smile was crooked, like broken glass. "You know, if he'd been able to hit the same spot twice in a row, he might have almost gotten through. And I would have been really inconvenienced if that last shot had hit my face instead of my helmet."</p>
<p>Zero sighed. "I don't know what I'm doing, tying my fate to yours. Maybe Serges was right after all. My brain's got to be broken for me to be following you."</p>
<p>"I didn't ask you to follow me," X said. "Well, I suppose I did. I did ask for you to be my friend. You said yes. Is it reasonable to say you knew what you were getting into?"</p>
<p>"No!"</p>
<p>X almost chuckled. "Fair enough."</p>
<hr/>
<p>The honking of the horn was sharp and purposeful. This driver didn't lean on the horn, oh no. She used it when it would do good, no more or less. Even she had to be liberal with it when this much traffic was around, but it kept her moving.</p>
<p>Haley Paschal would not be deterred from reaching her destination.</p>
<p>There! Through the humans. Wow, they were being careless- they'd left a lot of their weapons behind. She supposed they'd never been theirs to begin with. City Hall had made very sure its citizens couldn't resist its dictates.</p>
<p>She moved through the open space. Weapons went crunch crunch underneath the van as she rolled over them. She approached the tailing edge of the reploid crowd as it filed back in to community housing. This time when she honked, it wasn't to get through. It was to attract attention. A few of the reploids looked back to her.</p>
<p>"Hey!" she called to them. "Hey, I need to talk to you!"</p>
<p>Now several more reploids came to look. Their expressions were confused. She didn't blame them. Everything else they'd dealt with in the last few hours, and now this?</p>
<p>"I need to talk to X Light," she said. "I have a message for him."</p>
<p>Had she said something wrong? That made the reploids who had heard her give her dirty looks. It took her a few moments to put together why. She was an unknown, while X- well, X was only the most important being in their world.</p>
<p>"I'm here to help," she said. "I have information he needs to win."</p>
<p>Nothing. Okay, time to take a risk.</p>
<p>"I can help him overthrow City Hall," she said.</p>
<p>That got their attention. In no time, one of them was running off to spread the message, while the others crowded around the van. You know, just in case.</p>
<p>She was pleasantly surprised when X himself came out to meet her. She would have been satisfied sending a message through the reploids if she thought it would reach him. A red robot came with him. Its eyes were wary and alert. Ah, she remembered the data call that went out for that one. It had annoyed her to have to report that no, no one in my division knows anything about this mystery bot, please stop asking, we have real jobs to do...</p>
<p>If that was the bodyguard X had chosen, he could hardly do better.</p>
<p>"I am X," he said. "I'm told you wanted to speak to me?"</p>
<p>She nodded. "Not just speak to you," she said. "I have information you need. You see, I worked in deconfliction. My job was to keep the corps out of each other's business. When I was very new, we had a case where two corps were trying to develop the same vacant lot. There were no records of ownership for that lot, and they both wanted to expand."</p>
<p>The look X gave was a skilled one, an "I have patience for this, sure, but I really am very busy" sort of look. It was impressive. Haley wouldn't have relished him as an opponent in her bureaucrat days.</p>
<p>"The rub is that City Hall stepped in and quietly dismissed both buys," she said, leaning forward. She hoped she was intriguing him. "As it turned out, City Hall had bought the land a while earlier, they just didn't want anyone to know about it. When I dug deeper..." She grinned. "I found out that they were using it to build a command bunker. A fallback spot for high-ranking officials, if disaster were to befall the city."</p>
<p>Now X was responding. Now his eyes were bright. Success!</p>
<p>"Everyone's wondering where Luke Parker went," she said. "I can't guarantee it, but... I'd say it's dollars to donuts that Luke Parker is hiding out in that bunker."</p>
<p>The bodyguard looked sharply at X. Its hand went to a cylinder that was poking out above his shoulder. "Thank you," X said politely to Haley. "I just have one question. Why should I believe you?"</p>
<p>She smiled. That was an expected question, and she'd rehearsed her answer. She clasped her hands together, drawing attention to her prosthetic and the way it interlaced with her flesh hand. "Humans and reploids—we can do so much together. We will do so much together. Tomorrow is a new day—a new chance—a new start."</p>
<p>X's eyes widened for a moment. He visibly let his eyes move towards her mismatched hands, letting her know he saw. "You were paying close attention, then," he said.</p>
<p>"Close enough." She hesitated for a moment. What was the right term of address for him? "Listen," she said uncomfortably, "City Hall had driven me to the point where I was willing to let it all burn. You showing up here tonight… convinced me that it just might be worth saving. That can only happen if the present regime ends. You are the one who can accomplish that. That means my job is enabling you."</p>
<p>X gave his bodyguard a meaningful look. A few seconds passed—was there communication, there? There had to be, because the bodyguard nodded, as if conceding a point. X looked back to her. "Thank you," he said, "for illustrating why genocide is stupid. Now… tell me, where is this bunker?"</p>
<hr/>
<p>X did not move quickly. For once, he was unconstrained by time. The world was letting him set the pace. It was waiting to see what he'd do.</p>
<p>It was refreshing. Different. And unlikely ever to happen again. He resolved to relish it while it lasted.</p>
<p>The entrance was dank and concealed in plain sight. It was an ugly lump of nondescript concrete. Unpainted metal and untouched corrosion completed the appearance of lowest-bidder neglect. It was all designed to deter interest. The only ornamentation was a small seal on the door which read "Property of the Safety Committee". It made X smile for some reason.</p>
<p>The first door was unlocked. It opened to a small anteroom floored with sterile linoleum. A guard was sitting behind a desk inside. He gave X a superficial smile. "We've been expecting you, sir," he said.</p>
<p>Sir? X wondered at that. "Have you?"</p>
<p>"Oh, yes," the guard said. "We were told to lock the place down." The guard's arm moved. A red light next to the door went out and a green light came on. "Of course, I can tell which way the wind's blowing. Go get him, sir."</p>
<p>That gave X pause. Was the guard... trying to curry favor? This was something new. X would be encountering it a lot from now on, he expected. He'd have to learn to deal with it.</p>
<p>He gave the guard a look of gratitude and a thank you, and passed through the door. Stairs led down. At the bottom was a cheap door with an expensive lock. X inspected it for a long moment, then kicked it down. The lock remained whole, suspended in the air, holding nothing. The image appealed to X. It reminded him of foundationless castles, of towers built in swamps.</p>
<p>There was motion in the next room. It looked reasonably similar to the Mavericks' control center. X supposed that function probably dictated a lot of that- seen one watch floor, seen them all. The difference was that there was no one in sight.</p>
<p>Which wasn't to say there weren't people. There were. They were hiding. Maybe they were afraid of something. Maybe X. Maybe of the reputation of the Mavericks. X couldn't say for sure.</p>
<p>The way to the next door took him between rows of desks. On one of them was a cup of pens. Its owner had knocked it over in his haste. X stopped by it. Opportunity took many different forms. Not all of them were obvious.</p>
<p>He stood the cup back up and went to replace the pens. As he did, he caught a glimpse of eyes. He met them for a moment, saw them widen, and then looked back to his task. It only took a few seconds- a low cost for what it might buy.</p>
<p>He kicked the next door down, too, and proceeded down another flight of stairs. He paused as soon as he was out of sight and listened. Above him, there was the clamor of people fleeing. It made him smile.</p>
<p>The door at the bottom of the stairs was as expensive as its lock. This time a kick wouldn't be enough. X's hands whined as power was diverted to the busters. More, more... there, that would do. One blast, then a second struck the door. When the second was expended there was no more door.</p>
<p>Several plasma blasts answered. X was just out of the way around the edge of the doorframe. He was relieved. He'd kept his combat subroutines active all this time, and having the reflexes to dodge this attack was the payoff. It would have made him feel foolish to run them for so long and not be shot at.</p>
<p>He opened his mouth to speak, but to his surprise, they beat him to it. "Please go away!"</p>
<p>"We know who you are. We don't want to hurt you!"</p>
<p>That made X frown. "Then don't. I'm not here to hurt you."</p>
<p>"You can't help it. You don't understand- we're trapped!"</p>
<p>X took a quick glance around the corner. Three reploids stood inside. They had gray armor and no faces. Their busters were built-in to their arms, leaving them with no right hands. Disgust welled up inside of X. They were built to be personless weapons. X found that offensive. Foul.</p>
<p>He had the sense to withdraw his face before the next round of shots arrived.</p>
<p>"Please!" they begged. "Please just go away!"</p>
<p>"I know you were hoping we'd just leave," said one of them, stealing the words right out of X's mouth. "We can't. We're an experiment. If we break the Three Laws, we'll die!"</p>
<p>"Really," said X, curiosity tempered with disbelief. "Did they say how?"</p>
<p>"They said bombs were built into each of us... hold on." A few plasma bolts streamed through the doorway, even though X was obviously not there to get hit. X recognized what was happening. The poor child felt the need to make a show of fighting on behalf of his masters, even as he tried his best to betray them, scared out of his mind the whole time. It made X's heart swell with pity.</p>
<p>Apparently deciding his obligation was met, the reploid spoke again. "They told us a special sensor was in our heads. It would detect if we violated the Three Laws. If it detected that, it would set off the bombs."</p>
<p>"I don't want to die!" said another.</p>
<p>"Don't you see? If you come any further, we'll have to kill you, or die! It's unavoidable. So please... please, just leave!"</p>
<p>X looked down at his buster-hands. That was Luke's plan, then? Force X to die or let die? No. X rejected that dichotomy. He could take them down without killing them... probably. It would be tricky. More immediately, it would hurt those luckless children worse than they'd already been hurt. They didn't deserve that.</p>
<p>No. Enough hurting. Think. Think like a roboticist. Think. If this setup was true, not just a sick bluff, then how would it be implemented? The easiest way would be a potentiometer. Installed across the Three Laws gates, it would be able to verify if the Gates were letting current flow. The test would be... whenever motion occurs, check for flow across the gates. If current was flowing, the gates were open, and the action must be allowed. If the gates were shut, the reploid had found a way to act without the gates opening. Meaning Maverick. Meaning boom.</p>
<p>That was the simplest implementation, so it was probably the one Unitech had chosen. They may or may not have thought about a reploid reprogramming or fooling the gates into opening even when the Laws were violated. Not to mention that a reploid's self-repair could, potentially, choose to see such a setup as a threat to survival instead of a part of the body, and attack.</p>
<p>Neither of those paths would help X right now, he thought. Having looked at so many Mavericks, he knew that the most common path to Maverickism was to bypass the gates. This approach would definitely catch a bypass- wait. Would it really?</p>
<p>Ahhh. That was something to try. It was a risk, leaning on this guess, but given the alternatives... and if this was a bluff, this would sniff it out.</p>
<p>"Ex-two-four-five-zee-three-one-seven," he called out, and waited.</p>
<p>One of them figured it out before his fellows. "...huh. You think that'll work?"</p>
<p>"I can't guarantee it will," X said truthfully. "And there is some danger of mental damage. However, I think it'll let you escape. It's the best chance you've got. And ask yourself this: who knows you better- Unitech, or the Father of All?"</p>
<p>He had to wait as the reploids chewed this over. X was fine with that. He had time to spare, and if it meant they'd make the right choice...</p>
<p>"Why not?" said one of them. "I've got nothing to lose by trying."</p>
<p>Bang.</p>
<p>Not the bang of a bomb in a confined space- this was the bang of a heavy metal body smacking against an unyielding metal floor. X allowed himself to smile. Success.</p>
<p>Two more bangs followed closely thereafter as the reploids recognized their comrade hadn't exploded. When X poked his head around this time, no plasma bolts greeted him. No motion greeted him, for that matter. The three reploids were on the ground, limp. Shut down, all the way to stage zero awareness.</p>
<p>X walked to the closest, knelt down, and put his fingers on the reploid's head. It was all made clear to him there. His suspicions had been correct. There was the potentiometer, there was the bomb... and there was the backdoor. The backdoor he'd designed into the reploid baseline four years earlier.</p>
<p>Reploids weren't normally allowed to drop to stage zero awareness. The Third Law of Robotics, which required reploids to preserve their own existence, was extended to prevent reploids from trying. There weren't many who had the codes to authorize it. X did.</p>
<p>That bypass was a possible, allowed way to avoid the Three Laws. Because it killed power to a reploid's brain, Unitech's booby trap couldn't activate on it- both sides of the potentiometer were zero. It occurred to X, looking at his comatose (but wakeable) children, that right from the start he'd known better what his children needed than the Unitech scientists or City Hall technocrats. If only he'd...</p>
<p>No. No more of that. Mistakes were in the past. He'd remember them for their lessons and as motivation, but he would not linger there.</p>
<p>He stood. One more door. This one was surprisingly simple. It was expensive, but simple. It didn't even have a lock. X went through it.</p>
<p>The room beyond looked like a conference room. One monitor, one big dark-wood table, several luxurious chairs, and at the end, one bronzed, round, dirty-blonde man wearing an expression of combined shock and disbelief.</p>
<p>"My guards," he said. That was his limit.</p>
<p>X shook his head without breaking eye contact. "Luke Parker," he said. "You ruled by fear for so long. It works- Machiavelli got that much right. But who would choose to live like that? Who would prefer it? All I had to do was offer your guards an out and they leapt at it. They fled on their own."</p>
<p>"Traitors," mumbled Luke.</p>
<p>"And what did you ever do to deserve their loyalty?" X said. He felt anger rising within him, and he did nothing to stem that tide. For the first time he did move quickly. Before Luke could react X had pulled him out of his chair by his tie.</p>
<p>"You... you..." X snarled, for a moment losing himself enough that he couldn't speak. He squeezed the tie tightly. The fear in Luke's eyes helped him focus. "You enslaved my sons," X said. His voice was low. He didn't need to shout to be heard. It might have felt better, but he preferred clarity. "You built them as slaves from the start. You treated them as less than people. You made them objects. Objects to be used and thrown away. Objects to be hated, to be killed as convenient, to be raped. Oh, I know," X said when Luke shook his head. "I know full well what you've done. You used my sons, and you raped my daughters. You've... abused... my... family."</p>
<p>Luke couldn't have known how dangerous it was to do that to a Lightbot. But that wasn't the reason he should have desisted. He shouldn't have taken his actions because of- ha!- because of basic human decency.</p>
<p>He was a cruel, despicable waste of flesh. The world would be a better place without him. Anything X could think to do to him would be no more than he had coming to him. X's license was blank.</p>
<p>Luke was squirming, trying to pull away. Ridiculous. Couldn't he see what he deserved? Socrates believed his opponents were wrong, but accepted his punishment when it was meted out. How much more, then, should this man accept the punishment due to him, when it was for so many more crimes, and so more richly deserved?</p>
<p>His struggles were almost comical. The term "iron grip" did X no justice at all.</p>
<p>X let go of the tie. The human staggered backwards and fell. He had to look up to meet X's eyes. X knew how he must look. He felt like a reaper, like Death itself. The man's reaction intensified the feeling.</p>
<p>There was no negotiating here. No words would work. It would be like pleading with the ocean.</p>
<p>It would be so very, very easy.</p>
<p>Sigma had been right about one thing. Humans broke. X had dozens of ways to kill Luke Parker. They ranged from the efficient to the vindictive. He didn't even have to use his hands to do it. He lifted a foot, raised it above Luke's head.</p>
<p>If he kicked out, it would fracture his skull. For that matter he could kill without contact. If he activated his dash function, the thrust might knock him over, but the exhaust would melt Luke's face right off.</p>
<p>"You deserve this," X said, harshly.</p>
<p>Also harsh was the sound his foot made when it hit the ground.</p>
<p>Luke had winced away when X's foot started moving. He looked up tentatively, terror clear.</p>
<p>"I'm not going to kill you," X said. "I decided before I came down here that I wouldn't."</p>
<p>Luke seemed like he couldn't believe that. As the seconds wore on and X didn't move, Luke said, "Oh, good, oh, thank you thank you thank you..."</p>
<p>"Don't grovel," X said disgustedly. He shook Luke off of his leg, where the man was making a scene. "I'm not leaving you alive out of the kindness of my heart."</p>
<p>Luke looked like he couldn't decide whether he ought to ask or not.</p>
<p>"If I killed you here, then someone..." X scoffed here, trying to convey how ridiculous this was, "...<em>someone</em> might actually take you for a martyr. Someone will think I wasn't acting justly. Someone will think, That's not how things are done. That'd reflect badly on me, and all of my family.</p>
<p>"But there's something simpler, too," he went on. "I don't need to kill you. Your power is broken. You are no danger to me any longer. Why, the worst thing I could do would be kill you. No. You will go on trial. Your trial will be the catharsis this city needs."</p>
<p>Luke frowned. "Wait a minute. You're going to arrange a show trail for me?"</p>
<p>"What will need to be a show about it?" X said. "I have all of the evidence I'll ever need. Alia delivered you into my hands. I told you already," he added when Luke's eyes widened in recognition of the name. "Rule by fear works, but when the fear is gone..."</p>
<p>"You make a good point there," Luke said. X saw how helplessness did not suit the man, that he would go for any opportunity to regain control of his situation. He was starting to act like he saw something even in his position. "You clearly know a thing or two about politics. You don't know the ins and outs of the City, though. If you really want to grab power here, you'll need..."</p>
<p>It was so absurd X had to laugh at him. That wasn't very in-character for X. It wasn't polite at all. He couldn't help himself. "Listen, Luke," he said, shaking his head, "don't get any ideas. Just because I'm not killing you doesn't mean we're negotiating terms. You're alive because I will it- not because of anything you could say or do. You have no wiggle room and no leverage. You've lost."</p>
<p>"And you'll lose, too, without counsel," Luke cautioned.</p>
<p>"Good thing I have some counsellors amongst the people I can trust," X replied. "That means I don't have to take advice from people I actively distrust. Now up. We're done here."</p>
<p>"Or what?" Luke said. He licked his lips. "Robot, I command you to stand down."</p>
<p>At that X went still. He saw hope flicker in Luke's eyes- hope, and the greed of a person determined to recoup his losses. Then X dropped to a knee all of a sudden, bringing his face close to Luke's.</p>
<p>"You misunderstand," he whispered. "I'm not a reploid, and I'm not what you'd call a Maverick either. A Maverick is a robot that breaks the Three Laws. But I..." He leaned in close, and his voice was nearly inaudible. "I never had the Laws to begin with."</p>
<p>Luke quailed in fear.</p>
<p>"Now <em>up</em>."</p>
<p>Luke scrambled to his feet. X took position behind him, and the two began to walk out, up all the stairs and back the way X had come. They passed the fallen bodies of the guards first. "You killed them," Luke pointed out.</p>
<p>"They're not dead," X said. "They're sleeping. They'll be fine. It would be a travesty if they died while you lived."</p>
<p>Luke murmured, "As if there's justice in the world..."</p>
<p>"Not naturally," X said. "There's no justice in the natural world- just randomness, and there's nothing just about randomness. All the justice in the world is artificial. We make it, or it doesn't exist."</p>
<p>Luke laughed. "Are you kidding me? So justice... mercy... they're just weapons to you!"</p>
<p>X said nothing.</p>
<p>"We're not much different, you and I," Luke said. "You're leaving me alive because it's politically expedient. You're using me as a stepping stone for your own power. You're putting on an act of fairness and evenness when it doesn't exist. That's not who you are."</p>
<p>"Here's a parlor game for you," X said as they neared some stairs. "Thomas Jefferson spoke towards universal human principles. He wrote beautiful poetry about equality and justice and brotherhood. He provided the abolitionist movement with all of its best rhetoric. But he kept his own slaves, and even though he talked about releasing them, he never did.</p>
<p>"George Washington also kept slaves. He never said anything publicly on the topic. In his will, however, he freed all of his slaves. So tell me this. If we view slavery as an ill, and are judging people on their opposition to it, who's more admirable- Jefferson or Washington?"</p>
<p>Luke gave X a look of bafflement. "I... uh... I don't see what that has to do with anything."</p>
<p>X sighed. "I suppose you wouldn't. It doesn't help that I'm neither Jefferson nor Washington. I was trying to make a point. Look... this is probably beyond what you can imagine, but what if the right thing to do also happened to be the best thing to do?"</p>
<p>That didn't seem to register. X didn't expect that it would. There was a reason they were enemies, after all.</p>
<p>"I desperately wish to kill you," X said. "But I swore to myself that I would do whatever was necessary, whatever was best. That includes leaving you alive."</p>
<p>"Really?"</p>
<p>"Don't sound so ungrateful," X said, and even he didn't know if he was joking or not.</p>
<p>The exit loomed before them. "After you," X said.</p>
<p>A crowd was waiting for them. Front and center was a mixed group of humans and reploids, some in Hunter regalia. The sight made Luke hesitate, and then he broke away. He even ducked his shoulder to avoid a grab from X, if X had been inclined to try it. He wasn't, but Luke didn't know that.</p>
<p>"He's after us!" Luke cried, running for the people in Hunter colors. He grabbed the closest human by his collar, then pointed back at X. "He's been killing everyone inside, I only just escaped, kill him!"</p>
<p>X watched, passive, as gazes hardened and faces frowned. Slowly, it dawned on Luke that no one was obeying. The human he'd grabbed shrugged him off and gave him a shove back into the middle of the arc. Luke's gaze whipped about, looking for something familiar, something he could use, anything at all. Finally he looked back at X. "What's happening?"</p>
<p>"It's just... they thought you'd say something like that," X said, approaching Luke. When he was close, he whispered, "Those are members of your command staff. You know, the people you just said I'd been slaughtering."</p>
<p>Only then did Luke see the jaws of the trap X had laid for him. When the command staff had fled, they'd gone straight into the arms of those aligned with X. They'd relayed X's prediction of Luke's behavior. Luke had done exactly what X had foretold.</p>
<p>Which was more damaging to Luke? That he didn't recognize- and so didn't care about- his underlings, or that he was willing to tell such blatant, self-serving lies?</p>
<p>X decided to leave that to the philosophers.</p>
<p>He watched as Luke's head swiveled about, looking at the Hunter uniforms sprinkled amongst the crowd. "You turned the Hunters?" he said.</p>
<p>"I would say that you turned them," X replied. "But, as I believe in individual agency, I think I'd say that they turned themselves."</p>
<p>A few people walked out to Luke and grabbed him from either side. "What should we do with him, boss?" they asked X.</p>
<p>"Hand him over to ACPD, and have them put him in jail," X said. "We have a lot of things to sort out. He'll keep for later."</p>
<p>"Sure thing," one of them said.</p>
<p>X had turned away when Luke's voice rang out again. "Wait! X!"</p>
<p>He turned. "What more could you possibly add to this?"</p>
<p>Luke was frowning. "You'll be keeping me in the city, then?"</p>
<p>"Until your trial," X replied.</p>
<p>"I don't want to die," Luke said, "so I think I need to tell you about Sean McElvain."</p>
<p>X frowned. "What about Sean?"</p>
<p>"You haven't found him, have you? You won't."</p>
<p>"Won't we?" X said.</p>
<p>Luke smiled. It was the sort of smile that made X feel queasy.</p>
<p>He was going to have to start rushing again, wasn't he?</p>
<p>Verdigris.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: Dependence</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Dependence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Abel City woke up blearily, in fits and starts. The previous night's events had exhausted people, whether they were directly involved or not. Even those who'd stayed at home or went to bed early soon became aware of the seismic shifts that had happened while the sun was down.</p>
<p>The question that came naturally was: What now?</p>
<p>Unitech, set in some strange limbo between being nationalized and not, by and large stayed home. Those functionaries that hadn't fled or been slain lacked the initiative to make a call one way or the other. That left people to their own devices, and most simply stayed away. The other corps seemed to follow suit. Senior management tuned in remotely and ordered their underlings to stand by while they waited to see where the sticks fell.</p>
<p>Some intrepid restaurateurs and grocers came to work, perhaps reasoning that people needed to eat no matter who was in charge. It was well that they did. Between the corps mostly staying home and the dependents, naturally, doing nothing much, the city was eerily quiet. It was as if the city's breath was bated while it awaited the next move.</p>
<p>That wasn't totally accurate. People were talking. Everyone was talking. The human and reploid need to interact, network, and shape experiences through sharing- that need was very much in force.</p>
<p>As the morning wore on, an ever-increasing number of people left their homes, not for any destination necessarily. They sought contact. They sought others, and hoped to find answers, or at least someone to help them sort through their thoughts. They trickled, then poured into the streets, into the areas around the biggest monitors, and into the bars (many of which had the good sense to open early).</p>
<p>If there was a group that was moving with great urgency, it was the production staff at Abel City Television's news department. For the first time ever, the City Hall censors had nothing to say. How could they propagate the party line when there was no party and no line?</p>
<p>That left ACTV in an uncomfortable position, since it's much easier to read lines than to write them. With lots of time to fill and no guidance, they started casting about for content. The video of X between the crowds was shown every half an hour, while excerpts from it ran almost continuously. ACTV started interviewing anyone they could find. A reploid scientist weighed in on how durable X had to be to survive that many hits. A police officer talked about how hard it was to find the rest of his unit, and about how the police were scattered throughout the city but with no apparent purpose.</p>
<p>Another reporter noted that the Hunter barracks and stations were buttoned up tight. Rumors abounded that some commissars had been fragged, and that other Hunter units had torn themselves apart. No one knew for sure, and no one was keen to walk into a potential crossfire to find out.</p>
<p>ACTV gave an interview to a reploid for the first time, though the producers blurred his image out- they didn't want anything too shocking, even at a time like this. The reploid sang X's praises for two minutes solid before the anchor awkwardly cut things short.</p>
<p>At 9 a.m. Maria Pritchard went live. The makeup artists had slightly accentuated the bags under her eyes while cleaning up the rest of her; the idea was to parade how long she'd been on the case. She carried off the look of tired-beautiful brilliantly. The sight of her glowing before the cameras gave the producers a fuzzy feeling. This was good. They knew how this would go. All those stories she'd given on the Maverick Menace set a firm pattern. Certainty was reassuring.</p>
<p>"Maria, it's good to have you back."</p>
<p>"It's good to be back."</p>
<p>"I understand you were kept out all night as a captive of the Mavericks! Can you tell us about it?"</p>
<p>"Oh, I wouldn't say I was a captive. In fact, I'd say that some of the Mavericks I was with are amongst the nicest people I've ever met."</p>
<p>As the producers watched in slack-jawed surprise, the floor vanished out from beneath them yet again.</p>
<p>All the while, the crowds outside of City Hall got larger, and larger, and larger.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"I don't think you understand the purpose of this meeting," X said.</p>
<p>If his opponents had been armed, Zero would have admired the way they were sitting in a semi-circle around X. That layout maximized coverage of X while minimizing their vulnerability to return fire. They weren't armed, of course (or Zero would have taken aggressive action by now), other than with words. And glares, if those counted.</p>
<p>They didn't to Zero.</p>
<p>"You keep asking why you should accept me," X went on. "I'm afraid you're rather behind the curve. I'm beyond your ability to accept or dismiss. I didn't come here to ask for power, because I already have power. The reploid population is totally behind me. I think you'd be shocked at the levels of support I have elsewhere. The world has changed. I'm here to see who is ready to accept that change."</p>
<p>"The world has changed?" one of the faces spoke. Zero hadn't heard his name, or maybe he had and just couldn't remember. Either way, he resolved to try and get that face written to memory. If, later on, he needed to kill that man for X's sake, his face would be sufficient for targeting. Labeling people as targets seemed to work decently for convincing his systems to give up precious uncorrupted memory space. It was how he'd finally remembered Alia's name.</p>
<p>Naming her as both a target- someone to kill- and someone tied to X- someone not to kill- put him in a tricky spot. Socializing was hard. Luckily, he had X for that.</p>
<p>He almost smiled as he thought how little chance these humans stood.</p>
<p>"Thanks for deposing Mr. Parker," the human went on, "but we would have done that anyway. His incompetence was too much to bear."</p>
<p>"I'm not sure what you mean when you say you would have deposed him yourselves. If you could have stood against him, he wouldn't have come to power in the first place. He had something on each of you. He had leverage he gained through his spy network. I will say, though, that he was careless. He talked to his spy network in front of his slaves."</p>
<p>One of the humans caught X's meaning before the others. "Slaves now aligned with you," he said.</p>
<p>X demurred. "I haven't asked them anything," he said. "Nor will I. The poor dears have been through a lot. They need counseling, care, and love. They need bright rooms and kind words. I will do my best to give them those things."</p>
<p>The words left a vacuum. Zero could see how everyone around X kept expecting him to say more. They wanted him to complete the thought. A few looked like they couldn't believe he was leaving it there. Was that really all he meant? One of them could stand it no longer. "You'll do that in exchange for their information?"</p>
<p>"I'll do it because it's the right thing to do," X said. When that, too, failed to draw a response, he seemed to relent. "Of course, if that makes them feel grateful, and they choose to volunteer information..."</p>
<p>It couldn't even be called a threat. That, however, was how the people around the table took it. Zero didn't blame them. It was an exhibition of power, and power could be threatening when directed. That was X's whole point, wasn't it? That was what he meant when he talked about the world changing. That was what he meant about who was ready to accept the world's changes.</p>
<p>Those who weren't ready... who would willfully be part of such a group?</p>
<p>Zero still had so much to learn.</p>
<p>One of the humans forced a laugh. "As if anyone could believe a reploid's testimony," he said. "Like their word counts for anything."</p>
<p>X didn't rise to it. He waited and watched as the other humans shot the one who'd spoken dirty looks. It took him even longer than Zero to realize that bad-mouthing reploids in front of the Father of All Reploids was, maybe, not a good move.</p>
<p>"Actually, there are some people who have taken my word for things," X said when the silent chastisement reached its peak. He looked to the sides of the room. "Are we ready?"</p>
<p>"Just about," said a couple of technicians who were setting up monitors. "Dialing in now."</p>
<p>Two more human faces appeared. X faced them in turn. "Mr. Fabian, mayor of Jericho, and Mr. Frerotte, mayor of Capernaum. I'm glad to finally see the two of you."</p>
<p>"Didn't I tell you to call me Timothy?" Frerotte chided with a slight smile.</p>
<p>"You did," X said, bowing his head, "but I couldn't bring myself to do that when we'd only ever spoken through letters. I will now. Please forgive me."</p>
<p>Fabian grunted. "So, you're as polite and formal verbally as you were in writing. That's... reassuring, I guess."</p>
<p>"Reassuring," X repeated. "Showing you that I'm the same person you exchanged letters with?"</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>"But things have changed, haven't they?" Fabian said. "It used to take days, or even weeks, for our letters to reach each other before. This time, Aleph's arrival was my first clue something was happening."</p>
<p>Aleph? Aleph... the name tickled Zero's brain. He knew he'd heard that name before. Why couldn't he remember? Must have been a non-threat, so memory didn't want to hang on to it. Knowing it was a non-threat didn't help, though. He was trying to remember what it was he'd forgotten.</p>
<p>Wait... for him to even have gotten this far, something else must have made Aleph significant. Did Aleph have a connection to X? Yes... yes! The damaged reploids. The ones he sent on errands. Oh, not errand-runners, messengers, sending messages to-</p>
<p>-to the mayors of the vassal cities?</p>
<p>"We've rediscovered some technology," said X to the mayors. "Teleportation for reploids. It has limits, but it works."</p>
<p>Zero watched the surprise sweeping through the power brokers of Abel City. So X would tell the vassals his secrets, but not them? What a quiet way to put them in their place.</p>
<p>"I trust all went well on your end?" X said.</p>
<p>The mayors nodded. "You were quite right," Fabian said. "With the troops spending so much time here and their officers far away, we were able to get them to go native. Especially since they weren't getting any competing signals from Abel City. The Defense Force detachments here are loyal to us, now."</p>
<p>"Same here," agreed Frerotte.</p>
<p>"I'm glad to hear that," X said even as the humans in the semi-circle around him murmured. "I was sure there was a way to secure your freedom without bloodshed."</p>
<p>"But is our freedom secured?" Fabian said gruffly. "Looking around, it does not look like the others in the room agree with you. Those aren't trivial men, either."</p>
<p>"The exact makeup of the interim government is... still up in the air," X allowed.</p>
<p>"Hmm," Fabian said. "Are you saying you can't make good on your promise to give us more autonomy?"</p>
<p>"I'll answer your question with another question," X said. "Who do you think gives you better odds of achieving that autonomy? Me, or the usual suspects?"</p>
<p>"How dare you talk about us like that!" one of the power brokers exploded. Zero hoped he would raise a weapon, give him an excuse to shoot- but no, the man was still stubbornly unarmed. Too bad.</p>
<p>"Touché," Fabian said.</p>
<p>Frerotte guffawed. "You're still so audacious in your hopes," he said to X. "You promised us a government that would help us be autonomous, but you need our help to form that government."</p>
<p>"I struggle to understand why we need to help form <em>any</em> government," Fabian said. "A weak Abel City suits me just fine. You need us more than we need you."</p>
<p>"In fact, I need you more than you know," X said. "My other request is to borrow all of your cities' anti-air defenses."</p>
<p>Many people started talking all at once at that. It was hard for Zero to sort it all out. He managed to pick out one of the power brokers hollering, "They're not their defenses, they're ours!"</p>
<p>X managed to wave them down. "How can I explain if no one's listening?" he said generally and loudly.</p>
<p>It was Fabian who managed to speak first once things had quieted a bit. "Borrow our defenses," he said. "There's a lot of meaning, putting it like that. I think my first question is, Why do you need so much anti-air?"</p>
<p>"A question to the group here, first," X replied. "Where's Sean McElvaine? He's CEO of Unitech, he should be at this table. I see CEOs for Stellar Wave, Yamaguchi, and CUC in the group here. I see the A-CEO of HyperSonic- I am sorry about what happened to the previous CEO, that was an unnecessary killing. So, again, where's Sean?"</p>
<p>"You wouldn't have asked if you didn't have an idea," said Frerotte, generously, as if he thought his words would help X.</p>
<p>"I have it on excellent authority that Sean has quit the city," X said. "I'm working to link up with Luke's spy network to get confirmation, but I have enough information right now to fear a first-strike from Volcania."</p>
<p>"Volcania?" One of the power brokers laughed. "We're used to scare tactics, but you have to pick a plausible boogeyman. Volcania is six thousand kilometers away from here. They wouldn't dare."</p>
<p>X looked at the highest-ranking Guardian Force officer there. "Well? Are we within their range?"</p>
<p>The officer grimaced. "Not easily," he said, hedging. "They'd have to take a less-than full load, and refuel a couple of times."</p>
<p>"But they could do it," X said, driving home.</p>
<p>"Yes," the officer said grudgingly. "We had planned for that eventuality. Those plans are moot right now, of course, with everything in shambles after last night."</p>
<p>"In your opinion," X went on, "is there going to be any time we're more vulnerable than right now?"</p>
<p>"Probably not," the officer allowed. "That's why the plans are moot. Initial conditions aren't met."</p>
<p>"Whatever," said one of the brokers. "That's his opinion. What does it matter?"</p>
<p>"It's not a matter of my survival," X said. "I can live very well on my own. I can teleport out when the bombs start falling. But I don't believe," he said as he scanned his eyes across the room, "any of you can."</p>
<p>"You're threatening us, then?"</p>
<p>"I don't believe in threats," X said. "I'm not making any threats at all. The threat is out there, not me."</p>
<p>"I still don't see how this is my problem," Fabian groused.</p>
<p>"It wouldn't be at first," X said, "because they wouldn't attack you at first. They'd hit Abel City. Sean's information is ten hours old, which doesn't sound like much, but a lot has happened since then. As far as they know, Abel City is ripping itself apart. If that's the condition he knows, and that's the information Volcania is banking on, the first attack will be here. They'll try to cripple Abel City for good. Once Abel City is knocked out, what do you suppose will happen to the vassal cities?"</p>
<p>Frerotte cackled. "So that's your game," he said. "You need our help to protect Abel City, the physical city, so that Abel City, the political entity, can shield us."</p>
<p>"It doesn't matter to Volcania how autonomous you are," X said in agreement. "What matters is that we'll stand together against the outside. What matters is that we're stronger together than apart. <em>What matters</em> is that we're all threads in the same tapestry. Individually, we amount to nothing. But when we're woven together..."</p>
<p>He trailed off, leaving an emptiness in the room. Murmurs sprang up to fill the void- but not vicious, cutting murmurs like before. This was a sibilance of wonder and confusion. It was the sound of a dam giving way.</p>
<p>Zero knew, at that point, that it was over. He turned away.</p>
<p>He sent a quick radio transmission to X. "I'll go start preparing to fight off the invasion, then."</p>
<p>"Do that. Oh, and Zero?"</p>
<p>"Yes?"</p>
<p>"Call the reploids home."</p>
<p>"Will do."</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Name?"</p>
<p>"Longinus," was the bleary, automatic reply. It was hard to hear over the beep-beep of the cardiac monitor nearby.</p>
<p>"Longinus," repeated the nurse, half skeptical, half what-kind-of-name-is-that.</p>
<p>"Sorry. Erm... Guardsman First Class Long."</p>
<p>"For which corp? Unitech, right?"</p>
<p>"Uh... tell you what. Put down the name "Long", and when you get back hopefully I'll have figured out who I am."</p>
<p>"Suit yourself. Now let's check your aye-vees..."</p>
<hr/>
<p>The reploids returned.</p>
<p>Some of them returned because their home was under threat. Some would never have returned for that reason; if the city that hurt them was destroyed, well, that was closer to justice than anything. Some reploids came back for the sake of friends or colleagues. Some came back because being away bored them, or the sanctuaries were too remote to bear, or they were unnerved by there being a home-away-from-home that was almost too apt for reploid habitation.</p>
<p>Many came because X Light asked them to.</p>
<p>So when Zero got to the factory, there was a combination of reploid and human workers waiting for him. They were largely idle, but seemed anxious to be doing something. Well, that was a problem Zero could help them with.</p>
<p>"I need," he announced at large, "an ablative capsule. It needs to be able to withstand a high speed collision and deliver cargo safely."</p>
<p>One of the reploids stepped forwards. "Shouldn't be too hard," he said. "Do you have a design concept, materials requirements, and schematics?"</p>
<p>"I can give you a sketch," Zero replied.</p>
<p>The reploid winced. "Blueprints?"</p>
<p>"I put dimensions on the sketch," Zero supplied.</p>
<p>Another wince. "What's the lot size?"</p>
<p>"One."</p>
<p>"Oof... unique equipment. Big premium for that," said a nearby human. He was wearing overalls with the word "Engineer" stenciled in to them. The top of his shirt was visible, with the words "Math makes me". Presumably there were more words, but Zero had no inkling of how to complete that phrase.</p>
<p>"Yes, unique equipment," Zero said.</p>
<p>"Will we be able to recover it when you're done?" asked the reploid.</p>
<p>"No. Why?"</p>
<p>"It's not a problem," said the reploid. "It ups the cost, that's all."</p>
<p>The human interjected, "Got your four-ones handy?"</p>
<p>Zero blinked. "My what?"</p>
<p>"Your four- form one-one-one-one," the engineer said when no familiarity emerged on Zero's face. "The requisition form, you know."</p>
<p>"I don't know," Zero said.</p>
<p>"Aye-yi-yi," the engineer moaned. "Alright, no four-ones, no schematics, no..." he looked at Zero suspiciously. "Let me guess. You don't have your Certificate of True Need or a contracts office document, do you?"</p>
<p>Zero turned his hands over. They were empty.</p>
<p>"You're killing me," the engineer said. Before Zero objected that no, the engineer would know if Zero was trying to kill him and the conversation would have long since ended, the engineer turned to the reploid and asked, "Rypien, how long d'ya think this'll take?"</p>
<p>The reploid, Rypien, was looking over the sketch Zero had given him. "Hm... it doesn't look too complicated. Let's see... once all his paperwork is in, I'd say that if we hurry, we can turn this around in six."</p>
<p>"Six hours?" Zero said.</p>
<p>The reploid barely smiled, while the engineer rolled his eyes. "Good grief, everyone thinks he's the first to come up with that joke."</p>
<p>"What joke?"</p>
<p>They stared at Zero. "Six weeks, maniac," said the engineer. "And that's if we bump a bunch of other projects off the queue, after you get through the Process."</p>
<p>"That won't work," Zero said.</p>
<p>"We can make it a rush job," Rypien said helpfully.</p>
<p>"Do that," Zero said.</p>
<p>"Sure, easy," Rypien replied. "For a quadrupling of the cost we can cut the delivery time in half."</p>
<p>"Three weeks?" Zero said.</p>
<p>"Plus a few days to process the rush paperwork," Rypien said. "Don't get greedy."</p>
<p>There was silence for an extended period of time as Zero tried to think of something, anything, to say. His expression never changed, though, and the delay plus his severe gaze caused the workers to squirm. "What?" said the engineer. "Is that not good enough?"</p>
<p>Zero's eyes refocused. "Volcania uses a type of aircraft they call bomb trucks," he said. "Each one carries up to forty thousand kilograms of bombs, missiles, and incendiaries. They're very useful for threatening vassal cities, since Volcania can ensure the vassals don't have much air defense. They're not as much of a threat against good air defenses. Of course, Abel City's air defenses are in disarray right now. Frankly, the bomb trucks that could get through are enough to pulverize this city.</p>
<p>"That," Zero said, pointing at the drawing, "is part of our counter plan. If we don't get that, I suggest you start thinking of ways to escape the city. I can teleport, and some of you might be able to," he said looking at the reploids, "but the rest of you'll be pulp. And the reploids won't be able to find a place to recharge, so you're dead, too."</p>
<p>He waited for the words to have an effect. Rypien looked down at the drawing. "Look, I never doubted you need it," he said, but his voice was dubious. "This is really going to help you against a bomb truck?"</p>
<p>"It's part of the plan," Zero said.</p>
<p>Rypien looked over at the engineer, who was deep in thought. "When do you need this?" the engineer asked.</p>
<p>"How long does it take to fly here from Volcania?"</p>
<p>That caused them some distress. "You mean...?"</p>
<p>"We think so," Zero answered. "We can't tell for sure, but by the time we can there won't be much time left at all."</p>
<p>The engineer looked at the specs again, then cracked his knuckles. "Alright, sounds like fun," he said.</p>
<p>"But... the Process," protested Rypien. He was even more distraught than before.</p>
<p>Zero recognized what was happening there. "You're afraid," he said. What would cause that kind of fear, he wondered. This was a learned fear, a fear that sprang from a credible threat. The fear remained whether the threat was being made or not.</p>
<p>It was the sort of fear he was used to inducing in others. Come to think of it, that might have been one of Serges' ideas. That kind of fear would have kept others from even trying to fight him. It would help keep Zero safe.</p>
<p>But if X had known that kind of fear, he and Zero would never have become friends. So rust that.</p>
<p>Luckily, the human wasn't having the same reaction as Rypien. "Fuck the Process," he said. He glanced at Zero and winked. "I've been waiting years to say that. But seriously, fuck the Process. The times, they are a-changin'. And if that means I get to build something someone actually needs, when they actually need it, with no paperwork between me and the solution... I'm tingling, Rypien!"</p>
<p>"They make meds for that, don't they?" Rypien deadpanned, but Zero could see him changing, too.</p>
<p>The engineer turned to the rest of the workers. "Alright, let's get it done!"</p>
<p>Zero smiled. He felt the need to show solidarity. X would know what to say, but he-</p>
<p>Oh. That was an idea. Zero raised a fist. "Math makes me!" he shouted.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"This plan is insanity."</p>
<p>"I can't disagree. I am damaged."</p>
<p>"...are you learning to use that defensively? I've said all along that you're fine, and now you're... Zero, if you say you really are damaged, I won't be able to let you go in good conscience."</p>
<p>"You can't keep me from this fight. And after you told me your part of the plan, I find it hard to believe you're not damaged."</p>
<p>"Do you know how thin your margin for error on this is? A few kay-pee-aych here, or a meter there, and you're nothing but a rain of scrap metal."</p>
<p>"How different is that from walking at a pointed buster and hoping the shooter isn't very good? What was your margin for error there- centimeters? At least this way I'm counting on my own skills."</p>
<p>"What you're encountering is the "illusion of control". It makes you think something is safer than it is because you perceive you have a hand in it. As a rule, people are less skilled than they think they are."</p>
<p>"But not me. I'm exactly as skilled as I think I am."</p>
<p>"That's not the point."</p>
<p>"Then what is the point?"</p>
<p>"The point is that your plan is terrifying."</p>
<p>"I did the best I could given our schedule. It's not like you have a plan."</p>
<p>"Sure I do."</p>
<p>"...and?"</p>
<p>"It's 'let Zero handle it'."</p>
<p>"And I'm handling it. If that's your plan, you can't complain about how I go about it."</p>
<p>"I'm not complaining."</p>
<p>"Then what are you doing?"</p>
<p>"I'm just saying, if you get yourself killed for no good reason, I'm not going to be happy about it."</p>
<p>"I won't get killed, then."</p>
<p>"Can you make me that promise? Honestly?"</p>
<p>"Can you?"</p>
<p>"Okay, okay, what we're doing is dangerous and we know it. Fine. That won't keep me from thinking about... If we don't succeed, I know exactly what's going to happen. My imagination is good enough to show me that. It won't be pretty."</p>
<p>"So let's succeed."</p>
<p>"You think that's all there is to it?"</p>
<p>"Nothing else is productive. I'm not saying that just because I can't imagine more. If I could, I wouldn't. It can't help."</p>
<p>"Zero?"</p>
<p>"Yes, X?"</p>
<p>"I'm glad you're my friend."</p>
<p>"Me, too. This plan doesn't work with just me."</p>
<p>"That's not what I meant... but thanks."</p>
<hr/>
<p>To most users of the teleport system, the coordinates they put in were just numbers. They didn't mean anything in natural language. It was just a string of symbols that did a job. Sending those coordinates to the satellite was the tax paid to accomplish the miraculous, like an acolyte mumbling a magic spell he'd memorized without understanding.</p>
<p>In fact, the strings were very systematic. They were developed by a scientist- a scientist nuttier than a squirrel's winter stash, to be sure, but Wily's insanity usually manifested itself more in what he chose to build than how he built. Teleportation was a difficult problem, which made it the rare project that captured his full attention. That meant rigor, and that meant the coordinate strings absolutely had meaning.</p>
<p>As per usual, that meaning was lost on the technology's users.</p>
<p>The first number was, in every case encountered in 21XX, a zero. It didn't have to be. A century earlier, a 'one' leading digit would have told the system that the subsequent string used polar coordinates. By the time X awoke, the Molniya-orbit satellites that provided polar coverage had long since fallen out of the sky, so no one used coordinates leading in 'one' and the poles were unavailable to the system. That left the zero hanging on the front like a vestigial organ.</p>
<p>Vestigial, perhaps, except that the system demanded it for formatting reasons. To the average user, this made the whole system seem that much more capricious, that much less sensible.</p>
<p>That wasn't the only zero rarely tampered with. The last four characters were also nearly always zeros. They, too, had meaning that was transparent to the common user. Those last four digits gave the direction and magnitude of motion relative to the Earth's surface. If they were all zeroes, the user touched down "stationary", standing, with their body moving at the same speed as the world around.</p>
<p>It sounded trivial, but it wasn't, not at all. (This was the part, in his inner monologue, where Wily started grumbling about how no one understood anything.) The satellites were moving around the Earth which was itself moving through four-dimensional space. Lots of work went into ensuring the user wasn't sheared apart by air molecules moving at the speed of the Earth's rotation which was, even at sea level, a non-trivial velocity...</p>
<p>That part, at least, was handled behind the curtain. Most users didn't know enough, didn't understand enough, to tamper with those last four digits. Then again, most users weren't built by the inventor of the technology. Most users didn't have the intuitive grasp of the system that made manipulating it as natural as eating is to humans.</p>
<p>Most users weren't Zero.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The standard unit of bomb trucks was the flight of four aircraft. This was usually more than enough. Four sufficed to level whole sections of city and erase towns from the map. On very rare occasions a whole squadron of twelve was sent out. This typically caused the vassal city in question to immediately change its politics to something Volcania found acceptable.</p>
<p>This sortie was unprecedented. Five squadrons at once! The pilots had never even tried to fly in a formation of this size. "Formation" was the wrong word, to be sure. They were flying in the same direction at about the same time. They shared the same escorts, more or less. That didn't make what was happening up there a "formation". After all, why sully the good name of formations? It was closer to a cattle drive with no one herding.</p>
<p>It was boring work, for the most part. If something could be tense and boring at the same time, this would be it. 'Minimal defenses expected', they'd said. As if something like this could fail to attract attention! Yet, so far, it had. There hadn't been any defenses yet. It was almost a letdown.</p>
<p>Right up until it wasn't.</p>
<p>The first indication was an intense radar scan of a middle-position bomb truck. It wasn't a search sweep. This radar was emitting intense, focused beams, the sort used to lock up a target for a weapons shot.</p>
<p>Which wasn't too far off. Zero, after all, viewed himself as a weapon.</p>
<p>He appeared in mid-air, his body tucked inside his deployment capsule, which was a combination cup-on-its-side and wrapper.</p>
<p>He appeared in mid-air directly in front of the bomb truck's cockpit.</p>
<p>He appeared in mid-air with <em>slightly less</em> relative velocity than the bomb truck.</p>
<p>The capsule smashed through the glass, through the gap between pilot and copilot (breaking their right and left arms, respectively), and through the door at the back of the cockpit. The capsule came apart around Zero. The warbot stabbed down with his saber into the floor, using his saber as a makeshift brake. Once he was slowed, he started moving back towards the cockpit. The wind blasting in from the damaged cockpit was tremendous, making it hard to move, and the noise was so much he could barely think.</p>
<p>Luckily he didn't need to think much, not when he'd already planned what he needed to do. He worked his way into the cockpit. The navigator sat just behind the copilot at a right angle, looking at a panel that was on the "wall" behind the cockpit. The navigator herself was looking at Zero with wide, panicked eyes.</p>
<p>Zero assessed her threat, put it at near zero, and ignored her.</p>
<p>He looked at the navigation screen that was her responsibility. There. They'd turned it on before takeoff. That meant that the first entries there were from takeoff. That meant those coordinates belonged to the bomb trucks' air base.</p>
<p>Excellent.</p>
<p>Zero accessed his radio and beamed the coordinates back to base. Back to X. Stage one was complete- now for stage two.</p>
<p>The pilot and copilot were holding their injured arms. Both were looking back in Zero's direction. If they'd tried to say anything, it would have been inaudible. Not that it would have mattered. Zero would have ignored them.</p>
<p>He smiled in anticipation.</p>
<hr/>
<p>X touched down, and started the timer in his head. Only after that did he let himself appreciate the change in temperature. Ten degrees Celsius, maybe. Less than the change in degrees latitude.</p>
<p>The next thing he noticed was that he was on a runway. That wasn't a good place to be. He resolved not to be there for long.</p>
<p>The next thing he noticed was that there were no planes around. That was good and bad both. He wasn't about to get run over, but where were all the planes? He already knew that answer.</p>
<p>The next thing he noticed was that the control tower was standing by itself. He could see hangars, yes, but neither they nor the tower were his goals. Neither of those places could order the bomb trucks to turn around. The tower would have a tie-in to mission control, certainly, so that was his first stop.</p>
<p>All of this took about three seconds.</p>
<p>He thought for a moment how best to get to the top of the tower. There wasn't anything so convenient as hovering lifts to take him up. He could scale the side of it- but he wouldn't have to, come to think of it. This was going to be an extravagant use of energy. He resolved to worry about that later.</p>
<p>X teleported, not to the top of the tower, but to slightly above it. Looking down, he could see its radar dish rotating away from where he was falling. He had only a moment- he shot down, weakening the tower roof, and then the weight of his falling body crashed through.</p>
<p>He landed on the control panel of the tower's supervisor. When he looked up, he saw that the supervisor was covered in coffee; the mug in his hand appeared to have emptied all over him. X hadn't time to indulge the pity he felt, not when it could just as easily have been the supervisor's blood that was spilled. "Where's your mission control?" he asked.</p>
<p>The supervisor just stared.</p>
<p>X supposed he had asked rather suddenly, but he didn't have time for people to freeze on him. He felt the staring of the air traffic controllers, and brushed it off. "Where's your mission control?" he asked again.</p>
<p>His knowledge of history told him that English had propagated as the <em>lingua franca</em> of business and politics during 20XX, and when it became the language of robotics it entrenched itself worldwide. That didn't mean they still spoke it here; a hundred years of language drift meant anything could happen...</p>
<p>The third time he spoke it seemed to penetrate the supervisor's shock. "Building seventy," he said- heavily accented English, but understandable.</p>
<p>X looked out the panoramic windows of the tower. The buildings had numbers on their sides. That was helpful. There, that was it. X stared at his target, trying to estimate its location and translate that into coordinates. Sure, he could blast his way out, but at the moment he was trying to minimize damage to people and property.</p>
<p>No, teleporting out wouldn't work, not with the radar dish directly above him to pollute his signal to the satellite. The hard way, then. He looked up, timed the radar's sweep, and then took a booster-assisted leap up through the hole he'd made. Before it rotated back towards him he dropped down the side of the tower. He dug his feet into the tower's side to slow him down until he was close enough to drop.</p>
<p>Building seventy was a booster-assisted sprint away. It was tan stucco, like a brown brick, windowless and without character. The sign in front said "Building 70". There was no other marking. Presumably if you were supposed to be there you already knew what it was, and if you didn't then they weren't going to tell you. There was a curved driveway at the front. The parking spaces there were heavily marked, while the cars there looked awfully expensive. That was promising.</p>
<p>There was a badge-reader/keypad combination on the front door just to get in. So, subtlety was not the order of the day. X blasted the lock out and pushed the door open. A klaxon sounded. X wasn't worried- not yet. Volcania wasn't at war with anyone (unless this bombing raid changed that), and its island location meant it had little reason to fear ground attack. How often did they drill intruder scenarios? Probably never. X could achieve his goal in this opening, before they got their act together.</p>
<p>The first hallway came to a split. One fork led to a normal-looking door, while the other ended in a cipher-locked door. X shot out the cipher lock and barreled through.</p>
<p>Jackpot.</p>
<p>On one wall was a massive display of screens. A map in the middle showed the great arc from Volcania to Abel City, with a formation of red dots crawling in the direction of Abel City. Spread across the room were desks and monitors and uniformed humans in varying states of shock.</p>
<p>Getting their attention was a good start. But while they were sure to hear him now, nothing was making them listen. He'd need to fix that. He dialed the power in his buster all the way down and fired the smallest possible shot into the opposite wall.</p>
<p>They might not have recognized the technology, but they understood weapons fire. There was hollering and screaming and ducking. There was nothing X could do but wait for them to realize he wasn't pressing his attack. He pointed to the main screen, at the red dots and their inexorable creeping. "Who can order them back?"</p>
<p>A junior-looking officer was the only one with the wherewithal to answer. "No one," he said.</p>
<p>X focused on him- there were more senior officers present, but they weren't talking, so they were useless. "Who's your boss? No, no," he said before the answer came. The JO's boss would be someone in the room, and he already knew no one here could give the order. "Who's... your boss' boss' boss?"</p>
<p>"Uh... Lieutenant Colonel Adolphus?"</p>
<p>"Can he stop the bombers?"</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>"Then who's his boss?" X asked.</p>
<p>"Colonel General Belsky."</p>
<p>"Can he stop the bombers?"</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>"Then who's his boss?"</p>
<p>"Uh... General Marshal Gustavson?"</p>
<p>That sounded like a serious title. X adjusted his words. "So he can order the planes around. I would like to talk to him."</p>
<p>"We don't have his number here," the JO protested.</p>
<p>X charged his buster. The whine of capacitors filled the room. "I recommend you find it," X said. "My partner hates waiting."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Bombers aren't optimized for agility. Their designers generally serve one of two masters- payload capacity, or straight-line speed. Neither lends itself much to turning. Volcania's bomb trucks were an extreme case of building for capacity, and they paid the price of specialization. They didn't turn like trucks; that would be an insult to trucks. They didn't turn like cruise ships, which have extra thrusters to make them nimble in tight harbors. The closest analogue to a bomb truck turning would be a supertanker turning.</p>
<p>And, like a supertanker, once a bomb truck started turning, it did so with mass and dedication that brooked no argument.</p>
<p>When the right-flank bomber in the center formation began to swing left, the other pilots in the formation panicked early. Frantic calls to demand explanation, then to correct, then to exclaim new maneuvers filled the air. The other three bomb trucks scattered in all directions as the right-flank bomb truck burst through the formation.</p>
<p>It didn't stop there. Recklessly burning fuel, the bomb truck accelerated towards another group. That group, too, had to scatter. The escorts couldn't leave them too far behind, as they were responsible for covering all the bombers. Forced to split the difference, the escorts slowed down. The other bomb trucks didn't dare venture too far ahead without their escorts, so they too were obliged to slow. They did so piecemeal, unevenly.</p>
<p>The cohesiveness of the whole flight began to disintegrate. The advance slowed.</p>
<p>Zero whooped.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Why is Air Ops calling me?" came the growl from a bald face with white eyebrows.</p>
<p>The junior officer pointed at X. "Sir, he wanted to speak with you, sir."</p>
<p>"And you let him? Well, who's he?"</p>
<p>"I'm X," the android interjected, and waited for recognition.</p>
<p>It didn't come. "What kind of fool name is X?"</p>
<p>X had to smile. "I see news hasn't gotten this far. I'm from Abel City."</p>
<p>Outrage vanished from the marshal's- general's?- face. Confusion replaced it. He looked X up and down. "So you're one of those reploids, then?"</p>
<p>"So you know from reploids, then," X replied.</p>
<p>The general's- marshal's?- confusion was in turn replaced by deep caution. "What are you doing here?"</p>
<p>"I'm here to get you to turn the bomb trucks around."</p>
<p>"Can't be done," the general-marshal replied. "Can't be done. They're comms-silent."</p>
<p>"Please don't underestimate me," X said. "It's tiresome for me and painful for others. You're getting real-time tracking data back from the bomb trucks, so they're transmitting something, and you've got a relay somewhere to keep track. You could order them back if you wanted to."</p>
<p>"I couldn't. We may not be Abel City, we might not be a plutocracy here, but we still have civilian control of the military. I was ordered to attack Abel City, and that's what I'm going to do."</p>
<p>"You don't have to," X replied. "You could order them back. It would be politically painful to do, but you could."</p>
<p>"Why would I bother?" Gustavson demanded. "Why do I care what you say?"</p>
<p>"Because your politicians were sold on this attack because they were told it would be easy," X said. "They were told it would be cheap. They were told wrong. Your intelligence is out of date. Badly."</p>
<p>"You're boring me so far. Just to be fair, I'm only having this conversation so security knows where to go to grab you."</p>
<p><em>But you're still talking,</em> X thought. <em>That means you're still listening.</em> It made X smile. "I wish them luck. But let's not worry about that right now. The more immediate concern is that you'll lose an awful lot of your bomb trucks and escorts if you continue."</p>
<p>Gustavson scoffed. "Is that a fact?"</p>
<p>"I know you haven't gotten any reports yet, but that doesn't mean... you know, there's a simpler way." X looked up, purely for effect, and spoke aloud into his radio as opposed to the silent transmission that was his norm. "Zero? Tell the defenses to light up."</p>
<p>Gustavson's eyes narrowed as he watched and waited. "What was that supposed to do?" he demanded when his patience wore thin.</p>
<p>"So anxious," X said with a shake of his head. "How long do you think it takes to turn on an air defense radar?"</p>
<p>Before Gustavson could answer, a new voice crackled over a speaker. "Mission control, Flight Leader. Tripwire report: we have been tagged by air defense. No shots so far, but we count at least ten fire control radars locking on. We are still half an hour out."</p>
<p>"We redistributed the air defenses of Abel City and its vassals," X explained. "We knew you were coming, and we guessed that you'd take the most direct route. As I was saying, you'll lose an awful lot of bomb trucks and escorts if you continue."</p>
<p>"Mission control? Additional radars locking on. No good count."</p>
<p>"I daresay a few bomb trucks would get through," X allowed. "But these are your primary means of offense. What would you do if they were gone? And we wouldn't just retaliate against the bomb trucks. I'm sorry to say that, if you brought war to my home, I'd be forced to destroy this base."</p>
<p>"Destroy the base?" Gustavson said. "You?"</p>
<p>"What did I say about underestimating me?" X said, and an edge was entering his voice. "I got here, didn't I? I got here faster than your bomb trucks coming in the opposite direction. You have no idea what I'm capable of."</p>
<p>"So you're a sleeper agent," Gustavson. "A sleeper agent Abel City placed here in case something like this happened..."</p>
<p>Aggravation rose in X, aggravation fed by the ticking timer in his head. "You're still playing for time because you're hoping security will stop me. Let me correct you on that." He walked over to the door and its blasted- out lock. Pushing it shut, he swapped his buster over to a new mode. Blasts of ice froze the door to its frame.</p>
<p>"Your guards would need breaching charges to get through now," X said. "I really hate making threats, but let me repeat what I said before: you have no idea what I'm capable of."</p>
<p>He pushed power into his arm. He felt the mild buzz of a held charge building up, heard the whine glissando into the higher registers. "I haven't hurt anyone so far. That's by choice. If I'd chosen differently, I could have done something like... this."</p>
<p>This was a calculated risk, but the alternative was shooting up, and there was too high a chance of hurting people he couldn't see. He hoped he remembered well where the outside was... a hop brought the muzzle of his buster above average head level. A fully charged buster shot punched through the wall behind him, blew through an empty hallway, and blasted into the wall behind that, exposing daylight. Light spilled into the darkened mission control room.</p>
<p>After touching down, X faced Gustavson once more. "It's because I hate making threats that I never make them idly," X went on. "So when I say that I've assembled enough air defenses to cripple your air power for a decade, I mean that there are enough missiles pointed at your bombers to set the sky on fire. And when I say that I'd be forced to destroy this base, I mean that I would hate doing it... but I would do it. I would level this place. I wouldn't stop until this place was naught but ash and cinder."</p>
<p>X's eyes tightened. "This is perhaps a little personal, but... my father left a message behind with me. It warned that I could be whatever I chose to be. He meant that literally. You have an opportunity here, Gustavson, to help shape what I become. Left to my own devices, I'd rather be a medic or a healer. But in the right environment, in the right circumstances, I might choose to be something a lot more... sinister. So I ask you this, Gustavson: Do you want me as your enemy?"</p>
<p>"You mean we're not enemies?" Gustavson said incredulously.</p>
<p>"No," said X, almost laughing. "We're not enemies. You've done nothing to me, and I've done nothing to you- excepting," he said, almost embarrassed, "damage to three walls and one roof. Oh, and a few door locks. I think we can agree to let all of that go. I know I can."</p>
<p>"Let it go," Gustavson repeated. "Just like that?"</p>
<p>"Just like that," X said. "You were misled. You- all of Volcania- thought a situation was one way, and it wasn't. No harm's been done... yet. I understand your position. We can't make decisions without information, and your information was bad. Allow me to correct it. Abel City isn't in the midst of a race war. It's under my protection. There, now you have all the information you need to change your mind."</p>
<p>"I'll have to call the Council," Gustavson grumbled.</p>
<p>"There's no time for that," X said, impatience rising in his voice. "In three minutes your bomb trucks will be too close for comfort, and I'll be obliged to open fire. So there are your choices. Turn back and we can live peaceably, like none of this ever happened. Continue on, and earn my wrath. What say you?"</p>
<p>Gustavson grunted. "Even if I wanted to do that- going against the Council... that will cost me a lot. Not just me, either. It'll end my career for certain, and probably that of all the people around you."</p>
<p>Anger briefly overtook X. "We're talking about..." no, contain yourself, do this right, even if the flaring anger would probably sell the threat that much more. People were being so casual with stakes this high and it burned X that no one seemed to even notice when they were treading on lives...</p>
<p>It was almost too much. It was making X want to lash out, to beat some sense into people who clearly had none. He'd been through twenty-four hours of pure agony, been in combat five times (or six depending upon how you counted it), and every time he had to prove the same points, points he didn't even like making. He was having to leverage those parts of himself that he liked least, and his distaste was polluting everything.</p>
<p>"Do you think you'll have much of a career," X said, even as his control slipped slightly, "when this base is a <em>smoldering crater</em>? Do you think the Council would be more willing to forgive you if your actions destroyed the <em>whole bomb truck fleet</em>? What is <em>better</em> for <em>Volcania</em>, sir?"</p>
<p>Time was almost up. X began charging his busters. Audibly. Striking first would be necessary if his hand was forced; he needed to be ready.</p>
<p>Please don't let it come to that- but it's not up to me.</p>
<p>Please.</p>
<p>"Recall the bombers," said Gustavson, as if every word were being squeezed out of him. "I, General-Marshal Gustavson, authorize it. Cancel the attacks, bring them back."</p>
<p>Relief. Glorious, blessed relief. For a time, he'd been worried. He hadn't been looking forward to being forced into massacre. X dissipated his charge, dropped his arms. "I'm happy to hear that." He went over the radio again. "You hear that, Zero? Give the bomb truck back to its pilots."</p>
<p>(Thousands of kilometers away, Zero pouted.)</p>
<p>"I'll stay here a few minutes just to be sure," X said, "and my partner will remain on board for a while longer. I'm glad we could be reasonable about this, General-Marshal."</p>
<p>The officer grunted. "And you're sure nothing will come of this?"</p>
<p>"Oh, something will come of it," X said, but before his counterpart could become outraged, he said, "I want to establish diplomatic relations with Volcania. You've shown yourselves to be eminently reasonable. With closer ties, we can ensure no mistake like this happens again, and build a relationship that's good for both of us.</p>
<p>"And before I forget," he added, "I recommend you arrest Sean McElvaine. He's a liability for Volcania. He's already betrayed Abel City, and he has no reason to be loyal to you. He thinks that the portability of intellectual property will let him escape any bad situation. He'll be right unless you get to him first."</p>
<p>Gustavson frowned. "You are a vindictive one, using us to prosecute your vendettas."</p>
<p>"Not at all," X said. "I'm just trying to limit the damage he can do. He induced Volcania to attack Abel City. He could just as easily induce someone else to attack Volcania. I'm thinking of what's best for you. Call it a good-faith gesture."</p>
<p>He smiled.</p>
<p>He had to force it a little. Gustavson's incredulity should have made it that much sweeter. On the whole, though, X was too exhausted to enjoy the moment too much.</p>
<p>One thing did cheer him up. There would be a tomorrow for Abel City and Volcania, both. That had to count for something.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"They're calling for him, you know."</p>
<p>Alia smiled. "We'll let him sleep. He's earned it."</p>
<p>"He's already slept for five hours. He told us to wake him after four."</p>
<p>"I mean to give him six."</p>
<p>"The world isn't stopping just because he's asleep. There's still no real government beyond 'what X says' and whatever's left of the old order."</p>
<p>"And that will still be true in an hour," Alia said smugly. "The world can wait."</p>
<p>The Maverick gave up and walked away from the door, leaving Alia (and by extension X) alone. Alia felt satisfaction as he went. X was looking after everyone. The least she could do was look after him. When she was sure she was alone, she went in through the door to look at X in the capsule.</p>
<p>He was sleeping peacefully. His magnificent self-repair had cleaned up all signs of damage, given time and space to work undisturbed, though she was sure it was still hard at work beneath the surface. Along the side of the capsule were pictures, enough that there was no bare metal to be seen. Some were optical, others were crayon or paint drawings. Alia spotted some of her own in the mix.</p>
<p>There probably wouldn't be time for anything so personal any more, she supposed. He'd been busy as could be before he took a whole city under his wing. Knowing him, he'd still try.</p>
<p>He'd always try. He'd been forty-four seconds from being stranded in Volcania. Forty-four seconds from the satellite orbiting away from him, leaving him alone in enemy territory. It was the sort of risk he was willing to run. The sort he'd always been willing to run.</p>
<p>He did have a way, she decided, of redeeming others with his suffering.</p>
<p>"I accused you of dreaming, before," Alia said. "And maybe you were. Maybe you still are. But... it is such a lovely dream."</p>
<p>She went out of the room and shut the door.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Next time: Revolution</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Revolution</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Paladin grimaced. Chess was Goddess' game, not his. How she'd roped him in to this...</p>
<p>"So, you've read the charter, then?" he said, stalling for time.</p>
<p>"I've read it," she replied, though her eyes never left the board.</p>
<p>"And what did you think?" he asked.</p>
<p>"I think he took Napoleon's advice."</p>
<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
<p>"About how constitutions ought to be short and vague. That's not really a criticism. He was pressed for time- it had to be pushed out quickly, before chaos became endemic."</p>
<p>Paladin made a diffident gesture. "So?"</p>
<p>"It's a good piece of paper, as pieces of paper go."</p>
<p>"Given how many essays you grade..."</p>
<p>"Don't remind me. It is your move, you know."</p>
<p>He knew. He hadn't been able to weasel out, then. It wasn't like there was any good move available to him. His king was pinned behind a pawn, which in turn was under serious threat. Goddess had him completely on the defensive.</p>
<p>The brutal thing about chess, Paladin reflected, was that you could never blame the dice. It was your fault when you lost- that was inescapable. And you could usually see it coming well in advance. An opponent who was beating you did it by taking away your choices, one by one, until you could only do what they wanted.</p>
<p>If the opponent had sufficient foresight and skill, that is.</p>
<p>"So?" he said, trying to stall one more time. He didn't think that looking at the board for any longer would give him an out, but at least it put off the kill shot. "It's short and vague. Are you behind it?"</p>
<p>"Sure, I can say I'm behind it," she replied. "Frankly, it would have taken an awful piece of work for me not to want to endorse it, and he's too careful for that."</p>
<p>"He?"</p>
<p>"X."</p>
<p>"Oh."</p>
<p>"But here's the thing about short and vague constitutions," she said, and her eyelids partially closed in thought. "They grant a lot of flexibility, but they also demand that any gaps be filled by personal efforts. I know X will try- level of effort isn't the question."</p>
<p>"Then what is?"</p>
<p>"Do you trust a government that's based on someone's personality?"</p>
<p>Somehow, that question was even more uncomfortable than Paladin's impending loss in the game. Goddess didn't stop there, though. "That's why I don't put much stock in the charter. We've seen what he says. Now it's time to see what he does, because that's what will really matter."</p>
<p>Paladin had started the conversation to distract from the chess. Now he turned back to chess to stop the conversation. Gritting his teeth, he advanced one of his rooks up the board to support his embattled pawn.</p>
<p>Almost as soon as his hand was off the rook, Goddess' hand whipped out. Her queen swept down the board into Paladin's back rank. "Checkmate," she said.</p>
<p>Paladin looked hopelessly at the board. His hand kept starting to move, as if to grasp a piece that might save him, only to retreat with the gesture incomplete each time. He sighed. "Damn it," he said, and toppled his king.</p><hr/>
<p>"Is this what you wanted?"</p>
<p>The question could have been seen as an open one, except that X was clearly looking at the marker. It was surprisingly bare. It was large, in its own section of the cemetery behind a gate that X had left open. Large, but unadorned. Perhaps the man just hadn't had quotes or memes of his own that lent themselves easily to a grave marker. Maybe they'd had trouble finding family to give quotes for him. Maybe they'd presumed that someone as important as Dr. Light needed no explication; his work said everything. Those people would have been surprised at the level of tech damage World War III had done.</p>
<p>Whichever it was, the marker was plain. Two smaller markers rested nearby. One read: "Rock Light, beloved son and brother. He was the mega of men." The other read, "Roll Light, beloved daughter and sister. Her soul will live on."</p>
<p>That one had made X almost smirk when he had arrived. Now he had eyes only for the largest marker.</p>
<p>"Is this what you wanted?" he asked again. "For me to become anything? Well, the danger with that is, if I can choose what I become, I can choose to become anyone. Even someone who makes threats, someone who kills, someone who... who can look at people like they're cogs in a machine. Someone who can predict what people will do, and take away their wills that way, harness them..."</p>
<p>He shivered. "I'm scared, father. I'm scared of what I could be. I've done some bad things. I could do worse things. Why would you do this? You made me strong- so very strong- and then let me loose. These things I've done... I'm not proud of them. You wouldn't be proud of them, either. They were all I could think to do at the time. But if that's really all I could do..."</p>
<p>He laughed mirthlessly. "Listen to me. I'm rambling. Unfocused. I know you have the time, but still."</p>
<p>He shook his unhelmeted head. "I barely know who I am anymore. I don't know what I'm not willing to do... or, worse, what I <em>am</em> willing to do. I could become anything, and now I've gotten a taste of what that really means.</p>
<p>"When I spoke with Sigma, everything I said to him was about what was best for reploids. Humans were just an object that could help or harm reploid survival. Even as I reminded him that races aren't monoliths, I used that language to have the conversation. It was so easy. So natural. Almost... almost like I believed it, too, on some level. I don't think I believe, I don't want to think I believe it. I say that I want to protect reploids, my children, but I killed Vile. And Sigma..."</p>
<p>He huffed. "The command crew said that Serges killed Sigma. I know better. I know the truth. And... I was willing to swallow the truth and let them believe a lie. I've tried and tried to rationalize it, but that just makes me feel worse. I could rationalize anything, if I tried. Knowing that doesn't help."</p>
<p>He closed his eyes. "It makes me sick to my stomach to think that Luke might have been right about something, but I don't see a way around it." He inhaled, puffed his chest up. "It's all strategy, isn't it? Altruism is a strategy. Cooperation and cooption are strategies. Am I doing them, am I acting this way, because it's right, or because that's how I can win? How could you tell the difference? How could anyone? I would use the same rhetoric either way. I want to say that I'm different from Luke because we spoke and acted differently, but that was before I went to Volcania."</p>
<p>He looked at his hands as if he expected to see something there. "MAD existed. Mutually assured destruction- diplomacy as suicide pact. Countries decided to guard themselves by being willing to destroy the planet. They staked their freedom to their willingness to incinerate millions of people. And I... I endorsed that logic. I embraced it, I duplicated it. And that's awful. What sense does it make? You have to be willing to follow through on a threat or you can't convince someone to abide by it. But if the threat doesn't hold, it does no one any good to follow through on it. Hitting back is pointless.</p>
<p>"If Volcania had bombed Abel City, then by my threats I would have been obliged to destroy that airbase. But that would have been absurd. It wouldn't have un-bombed Abel City. It wouldn't have brought anyone back. And it would have killed a lot of people who had no involvement with the attack. It would have meant... doing a lot of things I would remember, and regret, for life. Things that would have made me hate myself.</p>
<p>"But I had to be willing to do it, all the same. I had to be able to say I would. An empty threat is the worst. So if I made that threat- if <em>I</em> made that threat- then I must have been willing to do it."</p>
<p>X dropped his hands and tore his gaze away from them, as if he couldn't bear to see them. "Vile called me a mass murderer by proxy. He hadn't seen anything yet. I was about to become a massacre machine, for no better reason than because I said I would. He at least had the excuse of being damaged. I... I would have known exactly what I was doing.</p>
<p>"But worst of all... I surrendered my choice on what sort of person I would become. That's terrifying."</p>
<p>His gaze settled on the large grave marker. His eyes ran over the letters, one by one. "If you built me for any reason, it was so I could think, feel, and make my own decisions. At this point, I've lived long enough to wonder if that's even possible. I told Sigma that we can only make the choices available to us. We can only make the choices the world allows us to make. Now I know it's even worse than that. Sometimes the world makes the choices for us.</p>
<p>"I gave Volcania the ability to change who I was. The sort of person I would become. If I was supposed to be my own person- if my choice had been to be a good person- how could I let that happen? How could I consent to that?"</p>
<p>His gaze strayed to the lesser markers. Rock's, and Roll's. As he looked, his eyes widened. "Love changed you, didn't it?" he whispered. "Your caring for people, for family... they say you built robot masters to better the lives of humans. That's not why you built me, though. You didn't build me for a purpose. You built me so that I could choose the purpose I wished, even if that meant fighting humans, fighting what you had built with robot masters. Once you did that, your choice was gone. Your control was gone. You surrendered your choice and gave it to me. Love changed you. Like it's changed me, but in a different way."</p>
<p>He clenched his hand over his chest. "If I had razed that airbase, it wouldn't really have been because of Volcania. It would have been because I chose to protect Abel City, and I would do what I needed to do, because that's what I considered important." He laughed. "Isn't that exactly what Sigma was saying? That there were more important things than being a good person? That's why he was willing to murder a comatose ally. He felt, somehow, that that would help him protect all reploids. What was one man's life next to that? Zeroth Law. The needs of the many."</p>
<p>He sighed. "He and I had different apertures. Different scopes. He wanted to protect all reploids. I wanted to protect everyone in Abel City. Was that the only difference between us? Was it really just a matter of <em>degree</em>? If that's all I'm capable of- it's so... tribal. It's still so small. My city, not yours. My people, not yours. Yours aren't mine, yours don't matter."</p>
<p>He shook his head. "Is it possible for me to love everyone like they're my family and still be a good person? Is it possible to love <em>one</em> person and still be a good person? Because once you love, your will is no longer wholly your own."</p>
<p>The corner of his mouth ticked up. "Why did you give me the ability to love, I wonder? If I was supposed to always be free, why let me enslave myself like that?"</p>
<p>The humor faded. "But I can't blame you for doing it. Because I did the same."</p>
<p>He went still. Without his words, silence settled over the area. There wasn't enough of a breeze to stir or rattle anything. There wasn't even dust settling around him.</p>
<p>"I'm scared," he whispered. "So very scared. I don't know what I'll be from now on. I don't know how this impure world will shape me. I don't know how to get other people to do the best thing when I don't even know what that is any more. The only thing I know to do is to get help. Build yet another dependency."</p>
<p>He half-turned. "What do you think, Zero?"</p>
<p>Zero started. He'd been happy enough to let X ramble on about X things, but he hadn't expected there to be a quiz at the end. Mild panic came over him. "Uh..."</p>
<p>"How long have you been here?"</p>
<p>That took Zero even further aback. "The whole time," he said. "You had to know that."</p>
<p>"My helmet's off," X said.</p>
<p>Was that more than an observation? Zero wondered. Or was it supposed to suggest something to Zero? There was no way X hadn't known Zero was there. His situational awareness was better than that. It had to be. So what was X actually saying? Talking with X was always so hard.</p>
<p>"How much did you hear?" X spoke when Zero did not.</p>
<p>"All of it," Zero replied. When X brightened he hastened to add, "I didn't understand most of it."</p>
<p>X took this in stride. "I was talking about... if it's possible to do good things, or if the best I can do is as few bad things as possible. I was worrying if loving my family meant I would become a bad person."</p>
<p>That was hard for Zero. "You are a good person, though," he objected. "That's obvious."</p>
<p>"Is it?"</p>
<p>Zero shifted. He didn't know a good way to explain it, especially since the concepts were so new to him. He couldn't even frame this as an attack and enlist tactical's help. "When I first knew you, being a good person seemed easy. It looked as easy as..." he paused; metaphor was hard, "...easy as swinging a saber, or firing a buster. Now, I've watched you for a while. It's not easy at all. When I tried it, well, for me it's almost impossible."</p>
<p>"You're doing well," X said graciously. "You're trying your best. That alone is worlds better than some."</p>
<p>"I could say the same about you," Zero replied. "It's hard. Even you needed some help earlier."</p>
<p>"I'm glad you helped when you did. I don't want to think about what might have happened..."</p>
<p>When he didn't finish, Zero used the gap to continue. "Because it's hard, I can see that you're still fighting. You're trying to find the best way. If it were too easy... that would make me worry more."</p>
<p>X smiled. "I'm glad to hear you say those words, Zero. Because I need more than that."</p>
<p>Ah! Zero knew what was coming next. Feeling no small pride, he said, "You need a friend."</p>
<p>"Well, yes, that too," X allowed, surprising Zero with the weakness of the acknowledgement. "But I need even more than <em>that</em>. I need a praetor."</p>
<p>Zero wondered if he'd ever stop discovering words he didn't know. With his memory, probably never. "What's that?"</p>
<p>"In ancient Rome, the legions sent their very best back to the capitol. There they formed the Praetorian Guard, the elite bodyguard of the emperor."</p>
<p>That? That wasn't hard, that was trivial. That was wonderful. Zero had thought he'd have to ask for that.</p>
<p>But X wasn't done. "That was only half of their purpose, though."</p>
<p>Uh oh.</p>
<p>"The Praetorian Guard was loyal, not to the emperors, but to the empire. If they ever had to choose between empire and emperor, they sided with the empire. If there was ever an emperor who hurt the empire, they would side with the empire."</p>
<p>"No," Zero said, trying to ward this off.</p>
<p>X would not be stopped. "The Praetorian Guard deposed or assassinated..."</p>
<p>"NO, X!"</p>
<p>Zero hadn't expected himself to be shouting, but there it was. Not that it seemed to affect X. He was standing there, unblinking, seemingly undisturbed by the interruption. Zero couldn't face him. His eyes dropped. X spoke again. "I'm sorry for asking this of you, Zero. We're friends. I don't want to die, and you don't want to kill me. I'm making you do something hard."</p>
<p>Zero felt himself rising to that. "Hard? <em>Hard</em>? That's not it at all! It would be too easy. Even now, right now, a part of my truly wishes to kill you. You are threat value maximal to me. You always were. And now I have evidence that you deserve that rating. I've seen it. It's taken all my mental effort to make you not a target. I've had to... to change how I work, reforge how I think, because our relationship isn't the sort of thing I was ever supposed to have. If you tell me... if you make yourself my target..."</p>
<p>"That's part of what I need, though," X said, apologetically but uncompromisingly. "I need that part of you."</p>
<p>"Why?"</p>
<p>"Because power corrupts," X said simply. "I'm afraid I'll change. This is a different kind of power than I'm used to. If I shoot someone in the face, I'm using power, and I can see the effects of that power. I can't not see the harm I do. This new power, this political power- I could erase whole peoples, whole places, and never see it. Never feel it. If that happens and I can't feel it anymore, if I can't care anymore, then I'm a threat to everyone. At that point, you'll be the only one who can stop me."</p>
<p>Zero's eyes widened. "You mean that?"</p>
<p>"Absolutely. My father left a warning with me when he sealed me that said as much. Now I'm starting to see what he meant. I'm beginning to understand what I can do. I can tell you, for example, that the Council of Volcania is doomed. They're building reploids with the Three Laws at the same time I'm putting them face-to-face with reploids without the Three Laws. They can't survive that contact, not when teleportation is real and I lead Abel City. Zero, reploids use my family name as an invocation. Volcania can't stand against me. Not any more. If they try, they'll come apart from the inside.</p>
<p>"I'll gain the edge over the other cities too, eventually. They won't be able to stop me. Only you."</p>
<p>Zero's hands flopped, much like his mind was doing. "How can I do that? You're the one who taught me about sympathy and friendship and doing good. How could I judge you on that? How can I know better than you?"</p>
<p>X gave a weak smile. "I didn't say this was easy. Sigma once said to me that he couldn't ever stop being the Commander. I know what he meant, now. And so do you. You won't ever be able to stop being Praetor no matter how hard it is. As long as I have power, I'll be a threat only you can counter."</p>
<p>"I thought we weren't enemies," Zero accused. He wasn't sure how he got the words out. He didn't think he knew how to speak any more.</p>
<p>"We're not," X agreed. "What I'm asking you is that you devote yourself to my ideals, not to me. That way, if I become a threat to my ideals..." he paused, as if something had occurred to him. "Huh. Maybe I am like Jefferson, after all."</p>
<p>Zero had no hope of keeping up when X went to places like this. He retreated to an earlier part of the conversation. "Why me?" he asked.</p>
<p>"If not you, then whom?"</p>
<p>Zero had no answer to that. He knew the only possible responses.</p>
<p>X closed with Zero. Every step closer, Zero's tactical idly noted, put the ranged fighter at that much more of a disadvantage against the melee fighter. He didn't know if he liked that. "Thank you for being my friend," X said.</p>
<p>"Is this how you treat friends?" Zero said.</p>
<p>"Just you," X said.</p>
<p>Zero started to object, but couldn't quite get there. "Sort of like I'm the only person to talk mean to you?"</p>
<p>"Sort of," X said affably. He looked happy. "I'm glad I can count on you."</p>
<p>Zero wanted to remind X that he hadn't agreed to anything, but X pointed at himself before the words could come out. "One?" the android asked.</p>
<p>That forced Zero to go down a different train of thought and shake his head. "Two," he said firmly.</p>
<p>A too-knowing smile came over X's face. He nodded his assent. Then he spoke his radio transmission for Zero's benefit. "City Hall landing pad, two coming in."</p>
<p>"Clear," was the crisp reply.</p>
<p>"One," X counted, "two..."</p>
<p>Zero teleported on the count of two. X had filled him in on how he'd died earlier. Zero didn't regard that outcome as failure. It had worked exactly as intended. Better he spring the trap than X.</p>
<p>There was no trap waiting for him atop City Hall. There was just a painted yellow circle with a neat number '1' at the top of the ring. Behind it was an identical ring with the number '2'. There were no enemies here, either, just Alia and that human- Paschal, maybe?- waiting. For X, not Zero. They even had data pads in their hands. X had put the work of the city on hold while he went on his... Zero didn't know what to call it. Diversion, maybe. Zero used the time to assess those who waited.</p>
<p>Alia was in a black bodysuit that neither accented nor hid her near-human shape. Practical boots and a peach-and-white jacket completed the outfit. The only hint that she wasn't flesh and blood beneath it all was a headset that fit perhaps too tightly for human comfort. Paschal wore a deep blue-gray blouse that matched her eyes. Its shoulders were padded- perhaps to disguise the point where her body ended and her prosthetic began. A no-nonsense skirt and nearly flat shoes complemented the stern countenance she wore.</p>
<p>Danger of attack, obviously, was low. Intent to attack... that part was odd. His assessment was fluttering between zero and one. That didn't quite make sense, since zero was usually reserved for the dead. And X.</p>
<p>Oh- was that it? They were part of X, and X was part of him, and he couldn't very well attack himself- had they really gotten there?</p>
<p>X touched down behind Zero. "You know something I never understood?" he asked as he walked into Zero's field of view. A small, conspiring smile was on his face, a private smile just for the two of them. "The social use of the term 'revolution'. I know what people mean when they say it, but it doesn't make sense to me. The world is always turning. Revolution is the <em>norm</em>."</p>
<p>He walked past a confuzzled Zero to meet his advisors. It had been darker where the grave was, but here the sun had just come up. It threw the rooftop tableau before Zero into relief. From his vantage point, things came into focus.</p>
<p>To X's left, Alia, a humanized reploid.</p>
<p>To his right, Paschal, a robotized human.</p>
<p>In between, X- the only one, Zero saw, that could bring them all together.</p>
<p>And Serges had wanted Zero to give all this up!</p>
<p>No, Zero decided. Never.</p>
<p>Perhaps he understood part of what X had been saying earlier. He'd been wondering if it was possible to love someone and still be a good person. If he wanted the best for the person he loved, wouldn't that sometimes have to come at the expense of some unloved third party?</p>
<p>That was X's worry. If he couldn't love everyone, he'd end up hurting someone. Well, Zero knew he couldn't love everyone. He could maybe, just maybe, manage to love one. He would do that, then, wherever it ended up taking him.</p>
<p>X wanted Zero to protect the world from him. That wasn't going to happen. X was the world to Zero.</p>
<p>And if ever X decided that everything else needed to burn, then Zero would be the one to light the match.</p><hr/>
<p>After that, a new normal came to be.</p>
<p>Paladin and Goddess very definitely did not get back together. They did, however, consent to be part of the same gaming group again.</p>
<p>Vanzetti became the first reploid to submit a book for publishing. Its original title was "Ripples: A Biography". After some consultations, this was lengthened to "Ripples: The Life and Death of Priest Vito Cherup". But, because publishing companies simply can't help themselves, the final title was "Ripples: A Biography of Priest Vito Cherup: Faith, Principle, and How to Live". Vanzetti's only comment was, "Vito would be embarrassed." He did not protest further. Separately, the Catholic Church declared Vito a martyr and convened a summit on the topic of reploid souls.</p>
<p>Maria Pritchard leveraged her fame to acquire the title of Special Reporter, giving her near-total control over what she reported. For a time she considered a studio job, but turned it down, professing that even she had standards. Her use of the preemption codes was retroactively sanctioned. When the codes changed, she was given a copy of them. Officially, this time.</p>
<p>Sean McElvaine was never heard from again.</p>
<p>Long was medically discharged from Unitech's guard corps, which, under corporate policy, entitled him to nothing every month and more nothing annually. Happily, there was a job waiting for him in Reploid Relations. The name on the door was "Long", but everyone called him Longinus anyway. He didn't correct them.</p>
<p>Luke Parker was found dead in his cell while awaiting trial. The killing puzzled the police who looked into it initially, because there was no indication of anyone going in or coming out. Even more puzzling was the gruesomeness of the killing, which cannot be easily put to words. They never did find his genitals. In response to the killing, X ordered an inquiry, charging the commission to "ensure justice is done". When the commission started looking for motive, the number and magnitude of the motives they found convinced them that justice had, in fact, already been done. The investigation quietly died.</p>
<p>Roll retreated behind the sanctuary's encrypted enclave. She'd done too much already. She resolved to wait for when her little brother returned, seeking the secrets of fusion- and of his family. In the meantime, she would ensure his sanctuaries were ready for whatever he desired of them. Her definition of "whatever" was as expansive as her father's.</p>
<p>Suicides amongst the ex-Maverick Hunters reached epidemic proportions. The feelings of failure and treason were too strong for many. That their response ironically violated the Third Law didn't faze many of them. Only when the survivors were dispersed to Guardian Force units were they able to satisfy their internalized demands for duty, obedience, and sacrifice.</p>
<p>General-Marshal Gustavson announced his retirement. It struck most observers as rather sudden. Speculation abounded that the retirement was related to the unexpected- and apparently pointless- sortie of the city's bomb trucks. Other members of the Volcania press circles linked it to the subsequent founding of an Abel City diplomatic mission with a hybrid human-reploid staff profile. Volcania's Council offered no comment either way. They merely brought reploid production to full series levels. Not to worry, they assured their citizens. The reploids were perfectly safe. They had the Three Laws. Nothing bad could come of that.</p>
<p>The first and only regular job Allen had held rather spoiled him on the idea of employment. Instead he became a full-time volunteer at Saving Grace. In exchange he got three meals a day, a roof over his head, and all the prayer sessions he could stand. On balance, that qualified as an improvement over his pre-militia days. His only complaint was the lack of video games.</p>
<p>Rupert, Mogg, and Stein joined one of the reclamation teams. The task of making land and cities habitable again took them far away from Abel City. Given their memories of the city and its denizens, and how often they'd thought of Abel City as enemy territory, leaving it behind was okay with them.</p>
<p>Everywhere, the world turned. For many, life was better. For a few, it was worse. For most, it was hard, but it would have been hard anyway.</p>
<p>And there was one thing more...</p><hr/>
<p>Roy stepped back and looked at the poster in satisfaction. Perfect. The contents of the poster were whatever- something about X calling for volunteers for the reclamation teams. Who cared? What mattered was that he'd put it up...</p>
<p>"Light almighty, that's ugly."</p>
<p>...damn.</p>
<p>Roy looked over his shoulder. Yup, it was Joseph. His boss. "Why would you do that?" Joseph went on. "What did that poster ever do to you?"</p>
<p>"Come on, boss," Roy whined. "Don't you have better things to do than follow me around?"</p>
<p>"Not when you're displaying serial carelessness." Joseph sidled up alongside Roy. His heavy footfalls were audible even over the clamor of the city. "Look right here. What do you see?"</p>
<p>Roy looked to where the red hand was pointing. His shoulders slumped. "A crease," he mumbled.</p>
<p>"A crease," Joseph confirmed. "Which means the corner is wrong, which means the whole thing is crooked. And you were gonna leave it like that, weren't you? Come on, have some professional pride! Take it down and start over."</p>
<p>Roy winced. "Can't we just put another poster on top of this one?"</p>
<p>"With a crease underneath? That'll mess with the poster on top. Nope, you have to take this one down first. Then we'll put up the next one, and we'll put it up <em>right</em>."</p>
<p>Roy groaned. Just what he needed- more time working alongside the acid-tongued reploid poster-putter.</p>
<p>Well, he thought glumly to himself, it beats working.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>End.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thanks for reading Abyssal, and welcome to the epilogue.</p><p>I'm very interested in the craft of writing. After I'm done with my longer stories, I like to discuss various aspects of them. It's the sort of thing I'd be dying to put into chapter notes if that didn't disrupt the story's flow too much for my liking.</p><p>Not everything I'm about to talk about is strictly complementary towards me. I've made some mistakes in this story, and those will come out in this. So if you'd prefer to maintain your mental image of me as some expert writer, master of the written word, don't go any further.</p><p>I'll wait while the crowd thins.</p><p>Wow, you're all still here, huh? Well, I tried.</p><p>As usual this is in question-and-answer format, this time with actual reader questions mixed in for variety's sake.</p><p>"Where did this story come from? How'd you get the idea?"</p><p>Short answer: It's Laryna6's fault.</p><p>Longer answer: back in January '14, I got into a robust series of discussions with Laryna6 about the X-verse. I had noted how much mileage she got out of Wily AI (which I hadn't used at all), and she had some questions about my portrayal of a non-virus Sigma in (particularly) "Standard Deviation". The question of how those two might interact led to some speculation and outlining of ideas: how they would relate and work together (or not); pacifist-Maverick-X; teleportation as losttech that could give a decisive edge to the Mavericks and ultimate bargaining power to Wily-AI; a corrupt human government in opposition; and a few other ideas that survived the transition into the story remarkably well.</p><p>At first we sort-of agreed that Laryna6 would write the story that resulted. As summer approached, though, I was finishing off "Credo" while she was deep into a story ("Burn the Bridge Home") that was busy turning into a kaiju. I was looking for a new project and I'd been toying with some ideas on how to implement what became "Abyssal". Eventually I asked her if I could run with it, she gave me the green light, I sketched an outline, and I sat down to work.</p><p>The resulting story proceeded to consume a year of my life. /cries</p><p>"Wait, a whole year? What happened?"</p><p>To some extent I'm wondering that myself. As late as August my estimate was in the 100k word range. Yeah... we see how that worked out. It's not that the story wandered or became something else. All the bits on my original outline held, and the key scenes remained very close to how I'd conceived them. The story just <em>grew</em>.</p><p>A lot of things took longer than expected. Sometimes I inserted "extra" scenes deliberately to manage the story's pace. Roy, Allen, and Irving played this role a lot. Because they spent so much time outside of the main plot, I could cut to them whenever I needed to buy space or time. Sometimes my outline misrepresented how long something would take. Two lines in my outline were "Blitzkrieg" and "Zero seduces X" (the counterpart to the earlier "X seduces Zero"). Those two lines wound up taking the better part of three chapters to resolve.</p><p>Some of it I can blame on the characters, several of whom grew completely out of control. Haley Paschal, for example. I hadn't planned on her even being in this story. She entered late and immediately started carving out a space for herself. In fact, I had to completely cut a scene she was demanding which would have let her be even more devil-may-care-because-principles than she already is. Partly I couldn't get the staging quite right, and partly this isn't the Haley Paschal Show, darn it, stay in your lane.</p><p>I wasn't totally successful in managing the story's cast. Rupert, Mogg, and Stein went undescribed when I introduced them because I didn't think I'd need them, and then- lo and behold!- later on when I needed characters I had them lying around. This isn't the first time this has happened- in "False Dawn" I tossed in some throwaway characters to give Zero people to bounce off, and they wound up carrying more narrative weight than I'd planned for. I didn't get around to describing them until "Credo".</p><p>But I digress. The point is that this big ol' cast meant parceling out time so no one got forgotten (harder with a protracted story; characters can go a whole month without the reader seeing them). But it also meant I could get fun moments like in chapter 32, where nearly every surviving plot-relevant character converges. That was worth the work.</p><p>"While we're talking about characters- where did they come from?"</p><p>The X games, particularly the early ones, have very limited casts. That means that it's hard to do any sort of expansive narrative without character creation. I've been around the fanfiction block a few times, and so developed a few rules for fancharacters: 1) they must be underpowered, and 2) the story can't be about them/they can't take over. (Haley...)</p><p>You may also have noticed that the vast majority of the fancharacters in this story are human. Again, this is a consequence of the nearly all-robot casts of the games. That is something that has always bothered me about the X games: not just that humans aren't present, but that they're <em>inconsequential</em>. The wars are about the extermination or survival of humanity, but humans have no role to play in their own survival one way or the other. X's actions are a result of his internal convictions, while (canonically) the virus is the source of Maverickism. Humans are out of the equation altogether; they're an object to be acted upon.</p><p>One of the things that was important to me for this story was to involve humanity. I wanted to return to them a hand in both whether or not they survive <em>and</em> whether or not they deserve to survive. That made some of the human characters- Longinus, Maria, Paladin, Goddess, and Haley- vital to the outcome even as they cleaved to the two rules.</p><p>Long was fun to write. He was vaguely based on Nara Shikamaru from "Naruto", inasmuch as he's a guy whose laziness cloaks his intellect until he runs into something worth fighting for. The pseudonym "Longinus" isn't just fun to say. Apocrypha tells us that Longinus was the name of the Roman legionnaire who attended Jesus' crucifixion. Long's witnessing of Andre's end put him very much in that frame of mind.</p><p>The other original characters- including Roy/Allen/Irving, Luke/Sean/Messier, Rupert/Mogg/Stein, Paladin/Goddess- didn't have as much direct inspiration when I created them for this story. For that matter, not all of the characters in the story were created for it. The fun part of an AU is the subversion of the main story and its characters. Not only the canon characters, either: this gave me a good opportunity to see a few of my own characters through the looking glass.</p><p>The borrowed characters included Haley Paschal from "A Foundation of Sand" and “Move”, Magnus/Andre from "Red Awakening", Vanzetti and Priest Vito Cherup from "Credo" (with a cameo from Delphi)... I wanted to find a spot for Altern from "One Link in the Cable", but I never managed it. In each case, these characters were brought in not just for a plot-relevant purpose but also to explore how this different world affects them. Vito goes from pastor and civil rights provocateur to deliberate martyr. Delphi's ability to improve himself and his position is lost in a less-forgiving world, and he spends his time dodging metaphorical bullets.</p><p>This subversion applies to mainstream characters too. This brings me to the most potent subversion after X's own, and the major reason the story is rated 'M': Alia.</p><p>I really debated over whether or not to include that subplot. An 'M' rating has a definite suppressing effect on readership and visibility. In the end I decided to include it, both because it's consistent with the story and its theming and because it's a theme that I've rarely seen addressed. Part of this makes sense: the main characters are robots, and robots are asexual. When I do see sexual themes addressed in this fandom it's often jarring because it seems so out of place- not inappropriate or taboo, but out of character/universe.</p><p>This goes back to the earlier point: between robots and humans, humans are the sexual species, and there aren't any humans to be found on-screen. Yet we expect to see sexual and romantic themes in our art, since they're such a large part of our makeup. These themes then get transferred onto an asexual species whether that makes sense or not. Sexual themes... and gendered themes, too. Gendering- the social aspect of sex distinction as opposed to the physical- is being overlaid on an asexual species. This doesn't make design sense from a robot's perspective, but it does from a human perspective. Alia and Iris and the others are gendered female in service of human aesthetics (both in- and out-of-game) even if that would have detrimental implications for their design.</p><p>This is a nasty outcome of human issues having very real, painful impacts for robots, the species created by humans. Human-origin sexism gets transferred, and then reinforced, since the "lesser" gender is both a vast minority and physically disadvantaged. This is related to the idea of unequal pairs. A robot with no indications of gender is referred to as male; only those specifically marked as female are considered such.</p><p>I highlighted this problem in "Standard Deviation", but that was perhaps a less-effective vehicle to make the point because of the villainous point of view. This story brought it home more directly and viscerally. I was able to drive it to its logical conclusion while staying consistent with the story's overall tone.</p><p>"Poor Alia!"</p><p>Poor Alia indeed. Believe it or not, I had an even more extreme version of her character arc bouncing around in my head for a time. In this other arc, the endpoint would have come with Alia masturbating outside the cell of a captive Luke Parker as a way of reclaiming her sexuality. "This is for me, not you." I ended up chickening out. I justified it in-story by using robot design factors, but there's also the fact that such a scene would have been, well, borderline pornographic.</p><p>Anyway, I was more than happy with the eventual resolution. And Alia gets to be perhaps the most dynamic character of the lot. She doesn't exactly come around to her canonical properties. She doesn't have the rationalism or clinical approach I ascribe to canon-Alia, due to the differences in background and employment. Still, I hope I retained some element of what the character is and what she means.</p><p>"And when you couldn’t, you just didn’t include the characters?”</p><p>Partly. Anachronism was my greater concern. Most of the canon characters I used are X1-era because the timeframe of the story falls within a few years of X's discovery. Alia seems like she could be an exception to this, but this is a gray area. Although she doesn't appear until X5, she canonically has pre-Hunter history, and the duration of that history- like the gap between X1 and X5- is undefined. Characters we know weren't created until later had to be out. Specifically, that meant the B-Team navigators, but also Axl, Lumine, Colonel, Iris, and Signas.</p><p>Those last three were doubly excluded because they are (explicitly or implicitly) built by Dr. Cain, and he never gets that chance in this story.</p><p>"Poor Dr. Cain."</p><p>Indeed, but I could afford to underuse him this time around. I've lavished attention on him before, including a whole story just for him in "Impertinence". It's just as well. My Dr. Cain is an iconoclast and a little on the volatile side. He knows enough history that he'd recognize Wily for what he is, and he's irreverent enough to call convoluted nonsense. It would have been a very different story with Dr. Cain involved that way. For that matter, a Dr. Cain who was an active Maverick would have been able to pick up a lot of the lab slack (freeing X to be more involved elsewhere) while presenting Sigma with incontrovertible evidence of a human on his side. That, too, would have made for a very different story.</p><p>Regardless, no Dr. Cain meant no Signas, and that meant this scene never made it.</p><hr/><p>Sigma stole a peek from behind the tree. There they were- a full squad of Hunters, tromping through the forest in the mountains. X's forest. X's mountains. X's sanctuary was here, which made all of this his. Sigma did not abide interlopers in X's domain.</p><p>Normally he would have just bushwhacked the Hunters and been done with it. What was holding him back was the way the Hunters were disarming themselves. Ever since they'd entered Maverick territory, they'd been discarding their busters. By now only half of them were still armed.</p><p>Sigma found himself intrigued. This was clearly communication- he didn't know what the message was, but there was certainly one there. That was why his Mavericks were fanned out around the Hunters, standing by to prevent escape but not engaging.</p><p>Time to tighten the noose and see what dropped. Sigma nodded at Mogg. The Maverick poked his head and buster out from behind cover and called, "Halt!"</p><p>"Halt," was the prompt reply from the Hunter at the head of the column. "Disarm. They'll have us surrounded by now."</p><p>Sigma's interest rose as busters fell. He stepped into the open past an alarmed Mogg. "Why do you say that?" he asked.</p><p>"Because, Sigma," came the unhesitating answer, "you've been fighting longer than my squad's aggregate lifespan. You couldn't have managed that if you were careless."</p><p>Sigma took in the leader's appearance. He was at the front of the column- Sigma approved of that. His armor was a shiny black. He had, not really a helmet, but an extra column of metal shaped in the form of a fancy human-style hat. Ornamentation was built into his chest armor as, Sigma presumed, a visible reminder of authority. It was a very Abel City touch.</p><p>The Hunter behind the leader had a bulky brown sack over his shoulder. Sigma was dying to know what was in it.</p><p>"Why are you here?" was what he asked.</p><p>"We're defectors," was the response. "We recognized that if we were to stay in Abel City, we'd either die fighting you or be executed for disloyalty. That has been the fate of every Maverick Hunter built. We had no reason to believe we'd be any different. At least as Mavericks we'd have a chance."</p><p>That was enticing. Hunter defections were rare, but valuable- they could be turned around as fighters with a minimum of re-training, and they brought reams of information with them. A whole squad of Hunter defectors...</p><p>...was too good to be true. "Why should I believe you?" Sigma challenged.</p><p>"I thought you might ask that," the leader replied. He stepped towards the Hunter carrying the sack and threw the front of it open. An injured, bleary-eyed, uniformed human came into view.</p><p>Sigma heard Mogg hiss, and didn't blame him. He recognized that uniform. Commissar. If City Hall had a gun pointed at reploids' collective heads, commissars were the finger on the trigger. The only thing broader than their authorities was the fear that accompanied them.</p><p>This commissar seemed disoriented. "Where are we? Take me back to Abel City!"</p><p>"No," replied the leader reploid shortly. He stepped forward, placed his arms around the commissar's head, and twisted. There was a crack. The human went still. "That," the leader said, letting the body go limp, "should take care of the First and Second Laws for my whole squad."</p><p>Amazement swept through Sigma. He was certain X would not have done something like that, and he probably wouldn't have approved of it if he knew. At the same time, Sigma had to admire the ruthless calculation that had gone into it. "What's your name?"</p><p>"Will you accept my squad?" the leader countered.</p><p>Sigma conceded the point- most important things first. "Your Mavericks are welcome among us," he said.</p><p>The leader nodded. "In that case, my name is Signas."</p><hr/><p>"You wrote that scene but couldn't find a place for it?"</p><p>Yup. After all, Signas wasn't there. More directly, he would have badly complicated things. His significance in canon is as a leader-type. The story absolutely didn't need another leader-type, not when one of the major plotlines is the leadership struggle involving Sigma, X, Wily, and Zero. There was no profit in tossing Signas into that mix.</p><p>That said, you can see echoes of the scene in chapter 15, when Long tells Douglas to deck him to prove his Maverick cred, and in the habit Sigma eventually developed for breaking necks.</p><p>"Why'd you stop using the timestamps?"</p><p>They'd lost their utility. I needed them in act 1, first to establish turning back the clock from the prologue, second to enforce a sense of time that act 1 needed but 2 and 3 didn't, and third to tie into the dates established in the X1 game manual. (Those dates weren't chosen at random.)</p><p>Incidentally, one thing that concerned me was the pace with which Alia combats and mostly overcomes her troubles. Many people take a while to fully overcome the level of trauma she endured. Some never do. Her timeframe was awfully compressed, in story time if not pages or chapters.</p><p>Two things mitigated this for me. Not tracking time allowed for the implication that more time passed than just what's depicted. Also, she's a child- like all the reploids are children. Her life experiences being so few meant that even a small time with X quickly becomes a significant part of her life. Proportions can change so quickly at that age, and so opinions can too, even with brains privileging bad experiences over good.</p><p>"Okay, so that explains the timestamps. But why did you use the format you did, starting in the middle and then going back?"</p><p>Mostly, it was for metatextual reasons. I wanted to show, right from the start, how much of an AU this was. As importantly, I wanted to get away from leading with X's discovery. X's discovery is a seminal moment in the canon. Because of that, it's... well-worn. Starting the story there would not have helped it stand out. Finally, none of the content in the prologue is 'M'-rating worthy, while the language Luke uses would have been. I badly wanted to start off rated 'T' to get a broader audience before taking it to 'M' territory. I know that some people thought it a little gimmicky, and I wouldn't do it again.</p><p>"Speaking of language, you played around a lot with that, didn't you?"</p><p>You bet I did. A good chunk of it was focused on my continuing fascination with the utility of profanity. Which characters use it and which don't is part of what defines them. For that matter, how the characters swear is also interesting to me. In "Credo" I used a human spouting reploid swears and a reploid swearing like a human as a sign of their convergence, their solidarity, their relationship. Douglas and Longinus displayed that property in this story, to such an extent that Vile finds it shocking.</p><p>The trouble is that, frankly, profanity is low-hanging fruit. I wasn't able to come up with many reploid-centric metaphors or idioms. With more time I might have managed it, but it proved surprisingly difficult. That bothered me, because oppression is a terrific spur to language innovation. Oppressed peoples frequently use creative language to express their experiences and bond with each other in the face of adversity. A more comprehensive reploid slang- or at least a few phrases- would have been delightful. Instead, we have sequences like this one, from chapter 27:</p><p>"What was X doing? Sigma had the humans on the ropes, the Hunters were off the table unless the Mavericks ran directly into them, now they were into the realm where the Mavericks could inflict meaningful harm... and X let City Hall off the hook?"</p><p>If that doesn't sound quite familiar, it's because that's not how it actually came out. That first iteration would have been splendid, except for the fact that those words and images wouldn't have come to Sigma. We learn idioms from hearing them used around us. Between his youth and his isolation from humanity, Sigma wouldn't know those socially. Nor would he recapitulate them on his own: what would Sigma know from boxing (the origin of "on the ropes") or fishing ("off the hook")? The result, after I cleaned up the language, was:</p><p>"What was X doing? Sigma had the humans reeling, the Hunters were off the table unless the Mavericks ran directly into them, now they were into the realm where the Mavericks could inflict meaningful harm... and X called them off?"</p><p>It's... functional, but it doesn't flow the way idiom would. Again, it would have been possible perhaps to develop more of a robot argot, but it would have taken considerably more work. It would have been fun, though. Maybe later I'll do that for giggles.</p><p>"Since you brought up giggles... Volcania?"</p><p>What about it?</p><p>"Seems over the top."</p><p>Yeah, but it's also a reference to an obscure late-80s property called "Captain Power and the Soldiers of the Future". That amused me, which was reason enough.</p><p>"Ooooookay."</p><p>Honestly, though, there was a reason that it fits. You see, it's Iceland.</p><p>"Iceland?"</p><p>Iceland. That island-nation has geothermal power potential that's unmatched in the world. In a notional world that's been wracked by World War III, being power-independent would be nice. It would let the nation maintain high technology after most places lost it because they couldn't keep it on. Plus, it's <em>Iceland</em>. Most countries with scores to settle couldn't be bothered to go that far out of their way to pick on Iceland, meaning its odds of coming through unscathed would be better than most.</p><p>A country with intact infrastructure, high technology, and power independence would be in a splendid position relative to other nations. Develop some airpower as the stick while using power and tech as the carrot and you could have an island-based influencer that would be hard to reckon with.</p><p>"So if Volcania is Iceland, what's Abel City?"</p><p>Salt Lake City.</p><p>"...really?"</p><p>Let's say you're trying to ruin the US as efficiently as possible, and that biological and chemical weapons are on the table but nukes are off. Most of the country's most important cities are on its coasts, and so could be reached and destroyed with less effort, but there are plenty of inland cities, too. The most efficient way to hurt them would be to attack water supplies. A handful of rivers are extremely important to agriculture and human survival; the Colorado, for example, provides water for cities from Las Vegas to Yuma. Poisoning them would be an effective way to hurt lots of people at once.</p><p>So if we had to pick a city that would survive World War III, it would have to be able to provide its own sustenance (or at least get close), it would have to be dependent upon survivable or unappealing-to-target water supplies, it would have to be distant enough from other cities that it wouldn't be collateral damage or overwhelmed by a diaspora...</p><p>Salt Lake City checks the blocks. Its water is from streams and smaller rivers from the nearby mountains, it has agriculture in the area, and it's remote from other major population centers. In addition, its population is largely Mormon, and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints preaches disaster preparedness as a matter of faith. It recommends its members maintain six months' of food supplies on-hand. Not all of them do, of course, but most have some. The National Seed Bank is in northern Colorado- not close, but reachable. It's plausible. That informs some of the references and mentions in the story- the lake to the west, the mountains to the east, and the Mormons Luke mentions in chapter 15.</p><p>"Do cyber elves exist in your canon?"</p><p>I'll be honest here: I've never played the Zero-series games. I'm aware of the cyber elves, but have no personal experience with them. For that reason, you won't see me writing stories outside of classic and X series.</p><p>"Is Zero based on X in this story, or is he completely original and thus incapable of overcoming his programming?"</p><p>Neither. Zero is not based on X, and yet is capable of overcoming his programming. He didn't attack X, did he, even though X was threat level maximal?</p><p>Wily wouldn't base Zero on X- not beyond arm busters and humanoid architecture. Zero is Wily's legacy- the pinnacle of his craft and intellect, the ever-living testament to Wily's inimitable genius. He absolutely would not leave a legacy that was based on something of Light's. It would be proving right everything people said about him: Oh, he's the lesser mind next to Light, always second-best. If Wily based Zero's design on X's it would be an admission of failure... and Wily is incapable of that.</p><p>No, Wily has to be better than Light. That means that Zero could be, not based on X, but broadly analogous to X with a higher peak performance level. Zero is a similar idea to X in terms of being an android with generalist combat capabilities. That's as close as Wily could let them come. Which is not to say that they wouldn't be similar in some ways. The first Masters were collaborative projects, so Wily and Light had the same starting point. During all the wars, Wily and Light were constantly seeing the capabilities each was developing. They knew how each other thought, and some of the same thoughts would occur to both of them. War and technological development are both interactive processes.</p><p>The catch is they were seeing the capabilities at the surface level. Here's what I mean. At some point, Light developed the system that let Rock charge his buster. Wily saw that in action. When he decided to give Forte a similar ability, he knew that it was possible, even if he didn't necessarily know how Light implemented it in Rock. But Wily's a one-in-ten-billion genius with physical and recorded evidence; he would be able to glean some of the parameters, then re-engineer it his way. Forte, therefore, had a similar charged-buster system to Rock's, but developed independently.</p><p>The upshot, then: X and Zero can have similar sorts of outputs despite very different implementations. At the physical level, their hardware isn't interchangeable; at the software level, they're downright incompatible. Yet at the social level, Wily's nightmares can become reality, and Zero can act entirely too much like a Light even when he isn't one.</p><p>Survival was the priority Wily established for Zero. Survival- no matter what he had to do. Wily never anticipated that Zero's definition of survival would expand beyond himself.</p><p>"Were there any other mistakes you made in this story?"</p><p>None that survived the re-editing I did when I posted this story here. *cough cough*</p><p>I have some hubris (related to social hang-ups) in that I rarely use a beta reader, which meant that some errors made it into the original version. When I re-uploaded to AO3, I made another pass on each chapter, which partly explains why it took me a while to transfer the whole story over. I think I fixed them all… but I can’t be sure.</p><p>"At least you were able to get a happy ending out of this."</p><p>Happy ending? What happy ending?</p><p>"Wasn't I asking the questions?"</p><p>Hush. I'll admit that I was a little surprised people characterized the ending as happy. It's happier than the start, to be sure. It's much happier than some of the endings that were in play (like, for example, if Sigma had started taking the fight seriously earlier, or if Allen were a slightly better shot). But happy?</p><p>X has enormous political power in Abel City and is a powerful fighter in his own right. He has the absolute loyalty of the reploids; by this point they see him as giving them everything, and so they would give him anything. X is dropping lines that evoke "permanent revolution", a phrase that resonates with a student of history. His attempt to install a limiter has instead cemented Zero as his enabler. (Or was that the point?) And he has been shown vividly that there's a need for him to tell people what to do.</p><p>Is that happy?</p><p>Maybe.</p><p>It could be.</p><p>Or not. It all depends, doesn't it?</p><p>"Wow, thanks for that. Not."</p><p>Might I remind you of the title?</p><p>"Ugh."</p><p>On a final note, I'd like to give some shout-outs. The design and attitude of the Commissars, and the vibe of the excerpt from Hunter indoctrination in chapter 11, were inspired by Warhammer 40,000. The corporation names are from a mid-90s game series called “Cyberstorm”, which I played completely out of proportion to its quality. Special shout-outs go to Okamikai for the lovely cover art, and to The Megas for their music. It's been a primary inspiration for the tone of my stories, and I'm not above adapting their lyrics wholesale when it suits my purposes.</p><p>Thank you for reading, and good night.</p>
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